


When We Brought You Home

by carmen_sandyeggo



Series: Modern Family [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Adoption, Foster Care, Lots of Feelings of Some Sort, M/M, Whatever other tags I dont know what to add, family au, i did this on my phone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-28 06:38:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10825821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmen_sandyeggo/pseuds/carmen_sandyeggo
Summary: After Prompto and Gladio settle down together, the talks of starting a family happened sooner than anyone else would have suspected. With their little happy family of four, Gladio could sense that Prompto wanted something more to complete their family. To feel whole.When they open their home to a troubled teen, they're  faced with new challenges they don't know exactly how to handle. Everything the young couple thought they knew about one another as fathers is tested.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lhugy_for_short](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> I had this idea in my head for a while, and these two amazing people have encouraged me so much throughout this process. This story is for them. Because they will read the shit out of this even if anyone else doesn't. 
> 
> This is a blend of Eos and 'Real World' references. You'll understand what I mean as you read. Also I have a vague idea of how some stuff works in the characters background-- dont crucify me if I'm wrong. Please. Thanks. Enjoy!

"Uhhh, Prom?" Gladio calls out to his husband.

"Yea!" The blonde replies nearly out of breath.

"You scrub that counter any harder, you'll burn a hole right through it babe."

Prompto stops abruptly, "I just gotta clean this off and then everything will be perfect," he says, continuing to wipe the surface clean-- a tad bit more gently since Gladio called him out on how aggressive he was being to the stubborn stain on the tile top.

Gladio walks over to his husband, gently resting his hands on his shoulders. "Prom, honey, it's _fiiine_. The house is spotless. You know, how you _always_ have it," he teases. 

Prom playfully smacks one of Gladio's hands off his shoulder, walking past him to look around the house, seeing if there's anything else to be done.

"I've never seen you like this before. It's not our first rodeo y'know." Gladio follows, resting on the door frame leading out of the kitchen and into the hall. Prompto's piling magazines together, stacking them neatly below an end table by the staircase.

"I know I just--" Prom sighs, taking a deep breath, "It's just, we've always fostered kids  around Lux and Hy's age. This is a teenager, Gladdy. This is a different ball game."

Gladio laughs, pushing off the frame to make his way to the blonde. "Yea it is. It's a different sport, actually,"

"Not helping,"

"But it'll be fine, Prom. Trust me. We're helping a kid in need, right? That's what we've always believed in. That's what's important."

Prompto turns to Gladio, resting his head on his chest, nodding at the last words his husband spoke.

He was right. They were doing something they both felt was...was...honorable, just, and made an impact. To give back to the community, in a sense.

 

Not long after Prompto and Gladio had met and gotten married, the subject of having children of their own came up almost instantly. Although Gladio didn't mind forking up the gil to have a biological child of his own, or Prompto's, Prom had been very adamant about adopting abandoned and unwanted children rather than having one through surrogacy. Which, Gladio completely understood and respected. Either way would have you, the most important thing to them was being together as a family.

They had adopted their seven year old daughter, Lux, from Tenebrae when she was just two years old. Not long after bringing her home, the couple adopted their newborn son, Hyacinth, under abrupt circumstances.

But Gladio could sense that Prom needed more. Not in the sense demanding from his spouse, or material things, but rather making their home whole and lively as a family. Prom always donated his free time at the local homeless shelters for young teens, gave away the kids' out grown clothes to the orphanage, donated toys, books, crafts and whatever else he could get his hands on. It was a very personal and sensitive topic for Prom.

Growing up in the system wasnt pleasant by any means for Prom. Foster care in Gralea had been much harsher than where he lived now. He dedicates his life to his adoptive parents for giving him a deserving chance when he was 13. Even when his father had died, his stepfather Cor came into the picture and treated him as his own.

And that's what Gladio knew his husband wanted to do; make these children feel loved. To make a difference in their lives.

They always got the pleasure of meeting the potential adoptove parents of the children they fostered. The two even loved meeting the parent who recieved full custody of their child-- allowing them to start over again. However they were always reluctant to give a child back to parents who had a history of negligence. The system wasn't perfect,  and Prom knew that. He just hoped that maybe there would be a child he could save. To give a deserving chance when they knew they were thrown away.

 

 

Gladio wraps his arms tightly around Prom, and kisses the top of his head. "It'll be alright babe."

Prom sighs, resting his hands on Gladdy's hips. "I know. I'm just...nervous. Excited! But mostly nervous. I deal with little kids all day. I don't exactly know how to handle a teenager."

Gladio rubs his back, "How hard could it be? We were their age once,"

"Uh, yea...that's my point. We weren't exactly _angelic_ ,"

"...Well, Iris wasn't all that bad."

Prompto rolls his eyes. If only Gladio knew the things his precious baby sister got herself into, before she became a mother to Talcott. Not that she couldn't handle herself. Or that Gladio would ever know. But this is exactly what Prompto's point is. Not to mention he wasn't exactly the disciplinary type. He tried his best not to be a 'friend' to his kids, but he definitely was a bit of a push over. Kinda...sorta.

 

Okay, he was the weakest link.

 

But! He wasn't any less of a good father. So, there's that.

 

Through the storm door they see a car pulling up the curb of their townhouse. 

"Well, they're here. No sense in worrying about it now," Gladio says.

They release each other and make their way to the door. Gladio yanks Prompto away from the couch that doesn't need its pillows rearranged for the fourth time.

A magenta haired man exits out of the vehicle first, waving to the couple, "Good Morning! Mr. and Mr. A, I presume?"

"That would be correct," Gladio replies. 

The other man nods approvingly, ducking his head back in the car for a moment, conversing with the person in the passenger seat.

From their stance, Prompto and Gladio can see the teen is reluctant to get out of the car. That is until the smiling case worker walks around to the passenger side to open the door for them. It takes a minute or two, but the teen gets out. They have their hoodie up and light brown hair down covering their tanned face-- dressed rather ruggedly. Tall and lean from what they could tell.

They sling their backpack over their shoulder, and lug up a large trash bag from the back seat.

Prompto tries not to visibly cringe when he sees the alternative 'luggage'.

Gladio immediately walks out to them, offering a helping hand.

"Can I get that for you?" he asks, reaching for the bag.

Instead of answering, the teen swings the bag over their shoulder, and stalks towards the door.

Gladio curls his offered hand loosely, and blinks, "I guess not then," he mutters to himself.

"Oh do mind his manners," the case worker says, "Ambrose here is not in a particularly good mood today." he explains.

"We have our days I guess," Gladio excuses.

"Ardyn Izunia, Duscae Child Foster Services," Ardyn introduces himself with a handshake.

"Gladiolus Amicitia,"

Mr. Izunia nods and looks over to the doorway, "And that makes you--"

"Prompto Argentum, the other half." Prompto says with a smile.

Ambrose comes stomping up the stairs, a bit out of breath from carrying the trash bag. He looks up at the foster parent, and darts those hazel eyes at the door, silently telling him to open the God damn door.

"Oh right, sorry," Prompto says, opening the door quickly to let the young boy in. He doesn't miss the eyeroll or scoff from him either- as if it were obvious that Prompto should've held the door open for him to begin with. _First impression: I look like an idiot,_ he thinks.

He does hold the door for the remaining party. Gladio and Prom share a look of brief wide eyes that said 'allllrighty then'. Which, ya know, meant they were in for an interesting time.

Grabbing the door, Gladio ushers his husband inside to close the door behind him.

"Please, take a seat," Prompto gestures to the formal loving room to their right.

Ambrose drops his things in front of the shoe rack carelessly before plopping down in the only arm chair in the far corner-- clearly disinterested.

The couple takes note of the immediate isolation from the teen. It was to be expected but, it was something they've never dealt with before.

Prom and Gladio take their seat together on the love couch, sitting closely so they can review everything with Mr. Izunia.

"Here is Mr. Vaughn's school records, vital records, and State Term of Agreement. He has his identification cards on person as well as his belongings which came with him when brought in for care. Now, I understand the two of you have fostered children before however, with the difference of age, there are a few changes. If he wishes to be relocated to another family, that is entirely up to him, and we will come foot. If for some reason you cannot house him, we will retrieve him. If he continues his delinquency, runs away, or anything stated in here in the forms, he will be picked up and your foster status will be flagged,"

Gladio and Prompto nod, knowing full well of what they've signed up for. Gladio takes the records from Mr. Izunia and hands them to Prompto to review briefly. 

Prom dives into Ambrose's education file. And it's...not, good. Unexcused absences, poor grades, negative comments regarding his attitude and citizenship in class. As an educator himself, this deeply saddened Prompto. He will have to work hard with him to bring his grades up. Especially since his best friend's dad already promised he would accept their foster teen to his private school, being the headmaster there. But now he wasnt too sure if that would even happen. With a sigh of determination, he puts back the documents, and scans over the medical records; taking note that Ambrose needs a long overdue check up.

"Would it be plausible to see the home?" The case worker asks.

"By all means," Gladio says standing up. "From the top?" He suggests, grabbing the teens belongings.

Gladio leads the way up the stairs, followed by Prom, Ardyn, and Ambrose in tow.

"We have a three-story townhouse with three bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, a small office, full kitchen, basement, and a half back yard," Prom spits out immediately starting the home tour.

Ardyn nods in approval almost impressingly so as they stop at the first bedroom.

"This is Ambrose's room," Gladio announces, opening the door. He places the large bag on the bed, and the backpack on the back of the desk chair. Ardyn looked at the fully furnished room, "It's bare now, but we plan to take him out shopping after this to pick out his own stuff." Gladio explains.

"That will certainly do!" Ardyn exclaims, nudging at the boy. "Your own room, how exciting is that?" 

Ambrose looks past the men in front, not saying anything when he gets a glimpse at what he has in his appointed room.

The group made their way back down stairs to get a proper tour of the rest of the home, hitting the basement, which had been remodeled into a family theater room/play room for the younger children.

Curious to see the back yard, Gladio takes a moment to step outside first, calling out commands to something named _Bruno_.

"You have pets?" Ardyn asks.

"Yes! We have a dog named Bruno, and a cat, Ireeni," Prompto answers.

"Ah yes, I see," Ardyn says, dividing the shades with his fingers to peer out the window to see a behemoth of a Rottweiler.

"Don't worry. The big guy is very friendly. Gladio is just making sure he obeys his commands before he sees new 'friends'."

Ardyn audibly gulps. A small snicker comes from Ambrose, who's turned away to hide his amusement.

"Uh, I take it you don't like dogs?" Prompto asks, since the young one's antics suggest so.

Ardyn snaps his attention to the blonde, "Oh, ha, of- of _course_ I like dogs. I'm just...used to the small yippy ones most people aren't fond of," 

Opening the door, Gladio gives the okay for everyone to step outside.

With Prompto outside, Ambrose shoves his way past Ardyn, who's nothing but hesitant to follow. Instead he sticks his head out, quickly looking over the backyard.

"Ah well yes, this is nice. I think that'll do," he says, concluding the tour and retreating back inside.

Ambrose snorts and shakes his head and follows the man.

"...ooookay. So much for that," Prompto mumbles.

Gladio doesn't even comment on what just happened, but is thankful that this is over.

"Alright, yes well-- I do thank you for your time. Duscae Child Foster Services thanks you for volunteering to help a child in need. Before I take leave, do you have any questions for me?" Mr. Izunia asks, looking to Prompto and Gladio. 

Before Gladio can say no, Prompto speaks up, "Yea I do actually,"

Ardyn directs his full attention to him with interest. "Why did Ambrose come here with a _trash bag_ , Mr. Izunia?" He asks, crossing his arms across his chest tightly.

Ambrose hears Gladio say 'uh-oh' under his breath.

Ardyn blinks, "I'm sorry?"

"Why are his things in a trash bag? Does your foster service not have enough funds to equip kids with proper luggage? Are his belongings _that_ unimportant, just because he may or may not go from home to home?" Prom continues to press.

Gladio turns to the side, giving a 'eeeesh' face.

Mr. Izunia seems to be lost for words, "I--Um... No, Mr. Argentum. The excuse of 'this is how things have always been done' is not one Duscae will use however, I regretfully offer no other explanation." He coughs, surely embarassed.

"Hm. I see," Prompto looks over to Gladio, eying him to see if he too had any questions, to which he shook his head.

He turns to Ambrose, "Got any questions bud?"

Ambrose scrunches his nose and too shakes his head.

"Right," Prom turns back to the caseworker, "Then we'll just need your contact information before we go about our day."

"Right," Ardyn pulls out three cards, handing two to the parents, and one to the teen. "Until next time! I will contact you in advance before our quarterly check in."

Prompto gives a tight lipped smile, "Looking forward to it."

He guides the man out, waving good-bye before shutting the door, sighing in relief as he rests against it, looking at the ceiling.

"You okay babe?" Gladio asks gently from afar. 

"Y...yea. I just-- unbelievable, ya know?"

"Yea I know. I know," Gladio says softly.

"Let's go out, yea? Get Ambrose here everything he needs, go grocery shopping, and pick up the kids right after." Gladio suggests.

Prompto looks at the other two, nodding in agreement, and pushes off the door. "So we didn't get to introduce ourselves but uh, I'm Prompto and this is my husband Gladio. You can call us by our first names," Prompto says, offering a hand.

Ambrose looks at him, then his hand, and takes it. He even makes the gesture to Gladio.

"So uh, do you go by Ambrose or is there another name you prefer?" The blonde asks.

"Ambrose 's fine." The teen replies shortly.

"Cool," Gladio says, clapping Ambrose's back, "Well, lets get going then. Got a lot of stuff to get."

 

Once the house is secured, the three of them head to the garage through the kitchen, and climb in Gladio's truck.

Ambrose mentally judges the yellow hatchback parked beside the truck. Looking over it, it was a nice performance car. An STi with all the works. _Impressive_. 

"Where you wanna hit first?" Gladio asks Prompto as he straps himself in.

"Let's go to the mall. Go to Lunar, pick up a new cell for Ambrose. Theeeeeen we can hit up some department stores, pick up bedding and clothes-- shoes. And after that, we can go to the market and buy toilet trees and groceries."

"Mall, Market, got it." Gladio summarizes in short.

He slaps a button above him to open the garage door and fires up the truck.

"Strapped in back there?" Gladio asks Ambrose, looking through the rear view mirror.

The teen is staring out the window. Without looking back or saying anything, Ambrose buckles himself in.

Gladio holds his tongue and throws the truck in drive.

 

"Alright dude, pick out whatever you want," Prompto says to Ambrose. They're at Sleepful Nights, a specialized bedroom department store that carried literally everything you could possibly imagine for a bedroom-- no matter how big or small, simple or luxurious. 

Ambrose looks back, hands in his pockets, almost afraid to touch anything. "Seriously?"

"Well, yea," Prom says, straightening up from leaning over the shopping cart, "I mean...within reason but, grab what you like."

Ambrose looks to Gladio, asking for permission from him as well. 

"Go for it dude," he says.

The reluctant teen looks back at the selection, scanning his options. He reaches out to pick the cheapest blanket and tosses it in the cart.

Prom looks at the selection, almost offended at what he chose. 

"Uhhh...you sure you want this?" He asks.

Ambrose shrugs, "What's wrong with it?"

"Well...it's so...cheap looking"

"And?"

"Annnd what he's trying to say," Gladio interjects, "Is that you should pick out something better. _Quality_ , comprende?" He picks up the blanket and shelves it back. "Lets get out of this section. There's better stuff over here," he points out around the corner.

"See, this is nice. Nice and soft and plush," Gladio pulls a thick wrapped comforter, waving his hand over it. "Feel," he offers.

Touching the fabric, Ambrose pauses. "Yea," he murmurs.

Satisfied, Gladio puts the comforter back again. "Alright you get the idea. Now, get what catches your eye. And no judgement. Blondie over there still has his chocobo pillowcases," he says in a not so whispered tone.

"I heard that _Rhett Butler_!"

Gladio waves him off. "Seriously, grab two or three comforters, several sheet sets, some light blankets. Quilts. We don't care."

With several pats on the back, Gladio walks over to Prompto, slapping his hand away from the new bed set from the signature _Gentiana_ line.

Ambrose takes a serious look again. Looking at the many color and patterned fabrics. He sees one he likes. And another. Annnnnd another. Grabbing them, the tosses them in the cart. He picks out two sets of sheets per comforter. Which, to be honest, complimented each other in any combination. Which, naturally, pleased Prompto.

He suggested a throw or two to add to the cart-- only for the teen to settle for a Star Fighters and Kings Knight fleece blankets. 

"Kids got good taste," Gladio comments to Prom, "Maybe we can nerd out with him."

The idea makes Prompto hopeful. Sure, Ambrose was rough around the edges. But he couldn't be all that bad of a kid. Right?

 

They walked around the mall, getting Ambrose several pairs of new shoes, new clothes for special occasions and weather appropriate outerwear. As much to their protest, Ambrose picked out majority of his casual clothes at Kenny's Kloset-- a trendy second hand clothing store. And to their surprise, the selection there wasn't all bad. Gently used to new clothes sold at low prices.

Gladio couldnt figure out if it was a guilt thing, or consideration tact or whatever, but is was very apparent Ambrose never had anything for himself before. Even getting the phone, Ambrose looked uncomfortable holding it.

Lugging the many shoppimg bags back to the truck, Prompto groans in frustration, realizing something he had forgotten to do.

"What?" Gladio asks unlocking the bed cover to the truck.

"We have to go to the school for Ambrose's uniform fitting and pick up."

"What?" Ambrose says in shock. " _Uniforms_?"

"Do we have to do that today?" Gladio asks, taking the bags from everyone.

"Well, _yea_ , Gladio. What else is he supposed to wear there? We also have to enroll him, but the uniforms-- I dont even know of they have extras on hand. Or his size!"

"Alright, we'll head there first, then finish up. We might have to pick up the kids before hitting the market."

"Wait, wait. Uniforms? Is there a strict regulation to what I can wear?" The teen continues. 

"Um, I'm not too sure bud. But we'll find out together. Why?" Asked Prompto.

Ambrose pulls down his hood, revealing his entire face. He had somewhat shaggy long hair, which he moved out of his face to show the nostril piercing he had.

But Prompto immediately notices the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. He was a handsome kid underneath his hood and shitty attitude he's had all day.

"It'll be fine man. A little hair trim won't kill ya," Gladio says indifferently. " 'sides, Mr.-- er, Headmaster Caelum is pretty relaxed for running a prestigious private school."

Sliding the bed cover in place, Gladio tells the other two to get in. The school was just outside of Citadel from where they were currently. They had to hurry up if they wanted to beat the school pick up traffic on their way back.

Prompto tried his best to cheer Ambrose up, seeing as he did not like the fact he had to wear a uniform to school. Garments that more than likely did not allow him any sort of identity or personality. And Prom understood. It sucked but, the education the boy would get in return will open new doors for him. A bit of sacrifice, if you will.

The school was unlike no other Ambrose ever attended. It looked biblical-- something you saw in history books or imagined in fictional novels. Ambrose knew, just _knew_ , he didn't belong here. He basically began a countdown of how long he's last in this home the moment he left Lestallum. But now? Pfft, it just fast tracked.

They were escorted to the administration department for enrollment; discussing appropriate classes for him to be slotted in and to further enhance his (lack of) educational needs from his previous school. He was bummed about not being able to pick out a certain elective-- being told it was a class for junior and senior students. He would have to wait just one more year to elect for it. (Another internal reminder how little time he would be here.)

Shortly after, Ambrose was taken to be measured for his uniforms. And just as luck would have it, they did in fact have uniforms in his size. Six sets of everything he needed for the school year; to include fleece lined leather gloves and a trench coat for rainy days.

It was beginning to feel overwhleming for Ambrose. These people were really investing in him. And for what? 

"Mr. Vaughn?" A woman's voice called. "The Headmaster will see you now."

The three follow the young woman through her office and down the hall. She pulls open the heavy set doors for them, stepping aside to allow the gentlemen through.

An elderly man sits at a large desk, reading over some files. _Probably my 'immaculate' record_ , Ambrose jokes to himself.

"Ah! There you are. It's been quite sometime. Come, come," he fusses, waving them over. "You look well," he says, hugging the couple.

The three older men spend a short time exchanging greetings and thanks for seeing one another before directing their attention to Ambrose.

"And you must be Mr. Ambrose Xavier Vaughn,"

Ambrose makes no move or sound to acknowledge the man, but rather holds his stare at the gentleman.

"Y-yes," Prompto excitedly says. He wraps an arm around his shoulder and squeezes a bit, "Ambrose, I'd like you to meet Headmaster Regis Lucis Caelum. He's my best friend's father, and coincidentally my Dad's best friend as well."

Regis extends his hand to the boy, fully expecting him not to shake it. But when he does, he's not sure who has the firmer grip. 

"Nice t'meet you," the teen says numbly. 

They all take their seats and dive directly into the matter at hand.

"Well Mr. Vaughn, believe it or not, I'm very happy that you will be a part of this fine institution. I'm very much aware of your situation, and have no doubts these folks here will take the best care of you," Regis begins. 

"But I'll cut right to the chase. You have a long hard road ahead of you. Your grades. Your criminal record. I've read all the reports the Duscae system had on file. You're not a bad kid. I refuse to believe you are from what these statements have attempted to make you out to be. But I'm afraid what's followed you in a paper trail, will leave people up for immediate interpretation. With that being said, you will not receive any special treatment from anyone in my staff, or myself-- but also not be treated any less due to your predicament. Do you understand young man?"

Ambrose stared at the man, squinting enough to try to catch any tick that would suggest bullshit on his part. With a curt nod and quiet vinegar taste words of 'yes sir', he settles a bit more into his chair.

"Very well," Regis smiles. He turns to a small stack of papers and hands them across the desk to Prompto. "Here is his class schedule, along with all the syllabi from his teachers. I don't need to tell you to ensure he comes equipped with necessary items for his every day lessons."

Prompto takes the small stack and tucks them in the welcome packet he recieved after officially enrolling Ambrose.

"Ah, and before I forget," Regis adds, reaching behind him for several pamphlets. "Here are some extra curricular activities you may be interested in. As well as Crownsguard Dress Code."

Ambrose was quick to grab the information folds from the headmaster, quickly reading over the dress codes and regulations of school conduct.

"So as a male student, I must have neat hair, not exceeding past my nape...and have a natural hair color?" Ambrose questions.

"Yes. Natural as in whatever shade you find suits you best. But nothing crazy like neon red or flame orange. Your hair color now is fine, just need to cut it down some and comb it over. Even some students here have two toned hair. With this day and age, many traditional views have been reevaluated to fit the younger generation. Individuality is important in growth, I believe."

"Hm." Ambrose continues to scan the pamphlet, noting that any additional garb of clothing must be solid maroon red, black, charcoal, or grey. Any accessories may be worn but hidden under the uniform at all times- on or off campus.

"So my piercing...is that not allowed?"

"You may wear small, silver stud. Nothing else."

 _Boring_.

"Any other questions?" Gladio asks the teen.

"Nah. I'm good."

"Very well. I know you must be taking leave now to fetch the younglings, I will not hold you any longer." Regis stands to show the family out.

Ambrose is first to walk out, not paying any mind to the others to stay and wait, or even say bye to the crypt keeper. He instead waits in the secretary's lobby for his foster parents, bored, impatient, and still unsure of the whole situtation at hand. Finally he hears voices down the hall. 

The two men emerge from the hallway and call Ambrose to their side to leave.

"So whaddya think huh? Not so bad right?" Prompto nudges Ambrose playfully.

He shrugs slightly with disinterest. He guessed it was alright.

It was nearing the end of the school day, and Gladio was adament about hurrying up to pick up the young ones, as he hated sitting in the long line of curb pick up.

Just as the bell rang, a flood of children came bolting out of school grounds; screaming, laughing, and chasing one another with their backpacks in hand.

Two children in particular were hand in hand, walking cautiously through the sea of fellow students. One child bumped into the smaller boy, knocking his metal lunch pail out of his hand.

"Watch where you're going, Callahan!" The older girl yelled, picking up the tin and looking over the boy, dusting him off.

She tears the truck door open, pausing a moment from seeing Ambrose.

"Who are _you_?" The blonde little girls asks.

"Lux, we normally say 'hi' to people we meet." Prompto chides.

She rolls her eyes, "Hi. Who are you?"

"Get your tail in truck, Lux." Gladio cuts in.

She guides her younger brother in first, buckling him in his booster seat in the middle.

"Guys, this is Ambrose. He'll be living with us for a while." Prompto announces. 

Ambrose gives a lazy lopsided grin and a quick wave.

"I'm Hy!" Shouts the little boy.

Ambrose snorts into a laughing mess. Not intentionally at the little boy but rather how the sentence sounded.

"I know what you're thinkin'," Gladio half warns. "It's short for Hyacinth. Like the f--"

"--flower!" Hy finishes with a bright smile.

Ambrose nods to acknowledge the child. He looks over the children in how similar they seemed to look to their parents, assuming no biological relation. Lux with her golden hair, freckle-free pale skin, and amber eyes and cold cut personality. And Hy...he was hyper and friendly with the bluest eyes Ambrose has ever seen. He was sun kissed like him, and had thick dark locks. They all meshed together. Like a family. Who the hell was Ambrose to just show up and interrupt that?

Their trip to the market was...interesting. For a family of four- er, five- they had filled two shopping carts of food that apparently would get them by for the next two weeks. But then again, looking at the size of Gladio, you would have to guess he has quite the appetite to sustain all that muscle.

But even then...God. It just seemed so excessive.

 

 

It almost felt like they were never going back to the house. Prompto had insisted they stop by another store to get Ambrose's school supplies and a new bag. _'I'm not gonna give him my office left overs, Gladio'_ , had been the reason.

Gladio looked like he wanted strangle him as soon as he mentioned getting the teen a haircut-- continuing to drag their day on with running around town.

Thankfully Prompto decided he would just do it himself, since Gladio and Hy needed their hair trimmed and faded.

Relief waved over Gladio and Ambrose-- they were quite frankly tired of running around all day and just wanted to get back to the house.

And once they did, Prompto helped Ambrose with his things and took him away from everyone. Leaving his husband to the children and duty of putting away the groceries. Prom thought out loud of what they needed to do get the teen settled in; listing off a number of things to get started on. Starting with washing bedsheets and a small load of clothes down in the laundry room in the basement.

"While that's going, how 'bout we talk about this mop of yours?" Prompto ruffles Ambrose's head.

He winces and pulls away slightly. "What about it?"

"Well I mean, we gotta cut it some. Any idea of how you'd like it done?"

Ambrose shrugs, "I don't care. Just don't give me a bowl cut or make me look like Bjorn Lothbrok," he points above him, hinting at Gladio.

Prompto bursts out laughing and snorts. Ambrose eyes him, a bit amused but not at the same time. His reference wasn't really all that funny-- he just didnt want it to resemble so closely to what the bronze giant had.

"Ah, hahaaa, I-I'm sorry. Haha! I just...wow!" Prompto regains his bearings, wiping away the tears from his eyes. "Okay! So," he clears his throat and take a better look at what he's working with.

"Do you want a long-ish comb over? It'll be a little long on top to swoop over the side, slick back, or let flop forward. We can do a low fade her--"

Another shrug, "Whatever man. It's just hair. It'll grow back," Ambrose cuts in. "Where we doing this?" 

Prompto has Ambrose follow him to his bathroom where he keeps his hair styling tools. Prompto pushes up his sleeves, ready to get to work.

Ambrose doesn't miss, or comment about the barcode tattoo he sees on the pale skin.

 

Gladio whistles lowly, "Looks good. We can actually see your face when you roll your eyes now," he says, earning a backhanded smack from Prompto on his chest to 'watch it'. 

To indulge Gladio out of spite, Ambrose does his signature move, adding fluttering eye lids.

Dinner was some sort of noodle soup. Pho, or whatever. Apparently Gladio's a huge noodle fiend-- ramen being his absolute favorite. 

Prompto starts handing utensils and napkins to Ambrose, asking him to set the table. Ambrose just sort of placed the napkins askewed and placed the silverware in no particular order. But of course Prom patiently took the time to show him how it's done-- rearranging the items like so.

As if on cue, Lux and Hy stomp their way up the stairs from the basement to join everyone in the kitchen to take their seats at the table.

"Ah-- wash your hands first," Prompto tells them, pointing them toward the guest bathroom. He eyes Ambrose to do the same while he sets everyone's cup with water.

The adolescents come back to see some side dishes placed in the tables center, as well as some bowls filled with broth and rice noodles resting in it.

"Alright, lets eat!" Gladio says claping his hands together.

Chairs screeched as they were dragged across the floor, and shuffled back in towards the table. Ambrose watched as everyone picked what they wanted to add to their bowls, mixing it up,  and stuffing their face.

Ambrose picked up his chopsticks-- giving them an experimental pinch from lack of practice. He hesitates, but gingerly adds peppers, bean sprouts and mint to his bowl.

"Try the red hot stuff, its delicious!" Cried Hy.

"Noooo, the hoison sauce is the best!" Argued Lux.

Ambrose did have a taste for spicy food, and nearly drenched his noodles entirely of the garlic chile paste. 

"Alriight, another hot tongue!" Prompto cheered, winking at Ambrose.

All Gladio could do was grunt and shake his head. He was more keen on the saltiness of his broth and tender raw meat, compared to everyone else's cooked beef.

"So, where y'from Ambrose?" Hy asked, slurping his noodles through his missing two front teeth.

Ambrose paused for a moment, not really sure if it was worth talking about himself. But seeing as it was just a five year old asking, he wouldnt be the one to shove his cold shoulder the poor boy's way.

"Lestallum." He answers.

"Is it true all the women there are as hardworking as people say they are?" Lux asked with interest.

Ambrose nods.

"So cool." Lux comments with glee.

Ambrose takes his first bite and closes his eyes as his glands salivate with satisfaction.

"Broth s'good," Ambrose mumbles mouth full of food.

"Thanks," Gladio says smiling. "Had to use the cheat broth from the packet but, it's still just as good."

"Don't let Ignis hear you say that," Prompto says playfully.

"Don't tell on me." Gladio winks, putting a singer finger over his lips.

"Ignis is Papa's partner," Lux explains to Ambrose. "He's the best chef there is at the department."

Raising a slightly curious brow, Ambrose looks around for further explination.

"Fire Department. Gladio and Ignis are firefighters," Prom informs.

Ambrose looks at him, "And what do you do?"

Before Prom can answer, Hy excitedly shouts that he's a Kindergarten teacher.

Now Ambrose cant help but make a face that says 'what the fuck'. With an incredulous look, Ambrose forces the food down, "How the h-- how did you two even meet?" It was weird. Such...opposite? careers, and they met by whatever miracle?

Gladio gives a breathy laugh, and speeds up his chewing, wiping the corners of his mouth.

"Career Day," is all he says. The couple look at each other and share a fond smile. 

"I was in my teaching practicum for college when I met Gladio. It was 'Career Day', like he said. And uh...yea." Prom's smiles ear to ear and blushes from thinking about that day they met, and the night they shared.

"You see," Gladio begins, leaning in and resting on his elbows on the table, keeping his eyes on Prom. "His school asked for a crew to volunteer for the event, and naturally my old man, the Captain, volunteered me. Which happened to be when I just got off my shift,

"So I go with Ignis and two new guys at the time. And we get told what classroom to go to-- t'talk about our job and junk. And I see Prom--- just, sittin' pretty next to some kids."

Lux is all ga-ga eyes listening to the mushy love romance. Hy is wearing noodles on his lips like a mustache. And Prom over here is smiling so hard his face muscles might cramp any minute.

"So eventually we get outside to show the kids our fire truck. Get them inside, wear the helmets, try on the suits-- all that jazz. And the entire time I just kept stealing glances at him, and _catching_ him looking at me--"

"I was _not_ , looking,"

"You _so_ totally were,"

Prom looks at Ambrose, shaking his head and mouthing _'I wasn't'_.

" _Anyway_! So I somehow get the kids Prom was holding hands with to get him to crawl in the truck and take a look for himself. And he does. But Iggy!" He slams his fist on the table, "just jumps right in and gives the tour-- side eying me like I was some sort of predator on a hunt."

"That's cause you _were_ ," Prom agrees.

Gladio gasps and clutches his heart in mock pain.

"But the best part?" Prompto picks up from where Gladio left off, "The big guy here waited almost _two hours_ outside to catch me walking to my car, to ask me what plans I had later that night. Two hours!" He exclaimed.

Ambrose gave a breathy chuckle, smiling just slightly. Looking at them, they seemed grossly in love like two teenagers. Even when they held hands in the truck while they drove was disgustingly sweet.

"But did you or did you not go out with me that night?" Gladio said in flirty tone.

"I did...though I only recall bits and pieces of it, I haven't looked back since."

"Why do only remember bits and pieces Daddy?" Hy asked.

"Yea, what _do_ you remember?" Lux asked with a knowing grin.

"Story-time-s'over!" Prompto spits out quickly, diving back into his food.

Ambrose buries his face in his hands to hide the laughter of Lux's jab. Astrals, she was seven! Seven! What the hell... suddenly Ambrose realized, and hoped, he wouldn't hear anything echo and carry upstairs to his bedroom on the top floor.

 

Lux helped Ambrose put away the leftovers and wash the dishes while Gladio helped Hy with chores around the house. Bruno sniffed Ambrose relentlessly after being brought in and fed; begging him to scratch his head or give him kisses. Still no sign of Ireeni...

The rest of the night went fairly smoothly with some family time and getting ready for bed. Somewhere in between Prom had given his son and spouse a fresh haircut that Hy was proud of-- matching his Papa.

Once the younger ones were put to sleep, Ambrose began to settle into his room; putting his new sheets on the bed, reviewing his class schedule and doing whatever else to kill time. He got the run down of how tomorrow morning would work by Gladio, not entirely enthused about having to be out the door by 7:30.

"I put your uniform right here," Prompto closes the door to show the neatly pressed clothes hung behind it. 

"And I couldnt help but put some of your clothes away in the drawers. Won't happen again if you don't want me touching your things." He puts his hands up briefly.

It was thoughtful in all honesty. No foster home had ever been _remotely_ this kind or welcoming toward Ambrose.

"I don't mind...I just," he looks at his belongings still zipped up in his raggedy backpack.

Prompto follows the teen's eye movement and makes the connection. "Oh- no, no! We wouldn't go through your personal stuff! Just-- pick laundry and put it away. Swear!" 

Prom felt sorry for Ambrose. Not with pity but, he felt for the kid. He could only imagine the shitty homes he'd been to-- enough to snoop and steal what little Ambrose probably had. It was tugging at his heart.

Gladio wraps his arm around his husband's waist and pulls him close. "But uh, if you need us--"

"Y'I know. Thanks." Ambrose says turning to bed.

The couple makes their way out, closing the door behind them gently.

Stripping to his underwear, Ambrose settled himself in bed. It was brand new. Soft. Comfortable. Ambrose gripped the pendant of his necklace-- reflecting on his day. All he had thought about was how angry he had been. Angry at the life he had been dealt before coming here. He felt so conflicted with his emotions; being influenced by his plentiful experiences of cruel people, to include his own father. But his conscious whispered postive and encouraging things to him. And it...it saddened him.

Shutting his eyes, Ambrose chokes the feeling  down before tears even get the oppprtunity to breach past their ducts.

Tomorrow embarked yet another, new chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning went relatively smooth. Gladio woke up the kids after his morning run with Bruno. Lux and Hy marched their way down stairs for breakfast. Ambrose on the other hand needed extra coaxing to wake up. Gladio had knocked on the teen's bedroom door before going back downstairs to wake his husband up. He had to knock again after everyone had finished their breakfast. And again, after he had showered with Prom. 

The fireman finally had enough and got Bruno excited to wake the young brunette up, letting him in the room. He snickered to himself when he heard Ambrose groan and tell Bruno to get off him. He was sure Bruno had put all of his body weight on the kid and slobbered him in kisses until he woke up. "Rise and shine! You got 30 minutes before we're out the door," Gladio called out, rapping on the barrier.

Gladio had volunteered to take all the kids to school this morning, since it was a rare occasion for him to do so. Since he and Prom took yesterday off to welcome Ambrose, Prom had to leave early in order to prep before his morning class. And it just so happened that Gladio was also given a late work call. It worked out almost too perfectly.

Ambrose came trotting down the stairs well groomed and dressed. He held his tie in one hand and his book bag in the other. "Do you know how to tie a tie?" He asked.

"Sure do," Gladio answered, setting his coffee down. He walks over to the teen, having him turn around so he does it for him from behind so he could pay attention. Gladio was a bit surprised Ambrose hadn't looked online to see how it was done however, it didn't matter. He'd gone to him for help, right? It was a start.

"Okay. Did you see how how I just did that?" Ambrose nods. "Good," Gladio pulls the tie apart. "Now you do it."

"Aw c'mon!"

"You won't learn if you don't do it yourself." 

Ambrose had to thread his tie thrice before getting it right and sharp looking.

"There we go. Easy right? You can eventually learn other ways of how to tie a tie,"

Ambrose quirks a brow, "There's more than one tie knot?"

Before Gladio could answer, Prompto comes flying down the stairs. 

"Okay babe, I already said by to the ki-- oh my goodness look at you!" Prompto squealed, looking at Ambrose. "L-lemme get a picture!" He dashes back up the stairs to grab his camera, and nearly crashes when his socks cause him to slip from running around.

"Okay! One, two-- wait," he reaches for Ambrose's lapel. "Your year pin is crooked," he explains. Ambrose watches Prompto undo the backing to pull out and re-pin the device, polishing off his finger prints. "There. Now it's picture time!"

Ambrose felt awkward. Why was he taking a picture? Was this a normal thing he did? Should he smile? Should he just stand there? Before he could decide, the flash went off.

"Nice! Nothing like in the moment, amirite?" He shows the teen the playback, and oh God. "Oh my God, delete that! I look stupid,"

"You look fine. Let's get going," Gladio says, yelling for the other two to pack up in the truck. 

"Have a good day bud, okay?" Prom tells Ambrose, grabbing his shoulders and smiling at him. "Luckily you're only a few weeks behind, so there's not much catching up to do. Don't be nervous. Stay out of trouble. And make friends, okay?"

"You sound like you're the one who's nervous," Ambrose replied.

The blonde laughs, "Well, if I were being honest, I kinda am. I was like that with Lux and Hy. And with every child who stayed here," he says almost sadly. "I know you'll be fine but, I guess it's more for me. A bit selfish I suppose."

It wasn't selfish. It was...nice. 

Prompto looks at his wrist and his face pales when he sees the time. "Fuck, I'm late. I'll pick you up after school. You have my number saved?" Ambrose nods again. "Sweet. Bye babe." Prompto says, turning to Gladio for a peck on the lips and sprints through the kitchen for the garage.

Ambrose looks to Gladio, calling shotgun before making his way to the truck.

 

The children wished Ambrose good luck for his first day of school when they were dropped off. And honestly? Ambrose was gonna need it. He just had a bad feeling and needed some reassurance it was in fact going to be okay.

"Don't think about it too much kid," Gladio says out of nowhere, as if he were reading the teen's mind.

"I dunno what you're talkin' 'bout," he dismisses, crossing his arms.

Gladio snorts. "Yea right. Look man, it'll be alright. Just-- give it a chance, yea? Everything is what you make out of it. You're in control of how you feel," he looks over to the teen looking out of the window, blocking again. 

He sighs, and tries once more, "Who knows, maybe you'll make some friends. Join a club? Sports? They have a boss soccer and lacrosse team at the academy."

"I really doubt I'll be here long enough to experience any of those things," Ambrose mumbles as they approach the main school entrance.

"What was that?" Gladio askes, wanting clarification of what he just heard.

"Nothing," Ambrose opens his door and hops out.

"Yea well, have a good day!" Gladio says loudly.

"Oh shi-- Ambrose!" He calls out.

The teen turns around, seeing some money being waved. He jogs back just as the school bell rings for students to make way to their first class.

"Sorry, almost forgot. Here's money for this week's lunch." He hands over ten 50s. _Holy shit how expensive are the lunches here?_

"Alright go on, don't be late on your first day!" 

 

 

Gladio was about an hour or so into his 10:00 shift when he got called in the captain's office. "What did I say this time?" Gladio asks rolling his eyes. He swore some of the guys couldn't handle a little criticism or an ass chewing when they fucked up.

"For once, this isn't about you. I have the Crownsguard Academy on the phone about Ambrose," Clarus said with concern.

Gladio furrowed his brows in confusion and grabs the receiver from the man. "This is Gladiolus Amicitia,"

 

Ambrose didn't even make it to lunch time before getting into a full blown fist fight with another student. Over what he couldn't know until he arrived at the school. Perfect. Just perfect.

Gladio drove as fast as he could, still in uniform, to get to Ambrose.

The secretary informed the foster parent that class Vice Headmaster was handling the situation regarding the fight, and escorted him to his office.

"Ah, Mr. Amicitia, thank you for joining us," he said. "I'm Ravus Nox Fleuret, your son's class Vice Headmaster."

"Yea hi-- what happened?" Gladio asked directly. He had an hour to get this over with before he had to be back on the station, God willing they don't receive a call.

Mr. Fleuret seemed a bit taken back for how the parent walked in on the matter. "Mr. Vaughn enticed a violent physical altercation with another scholar, Mr. Amicitia. That is 'what happened'," he said as a matter of fact.

Gladio turned to look at Ambrose for the first time-- and the sight took him by surprise.

He snaps his head back at the educator, "Why is he still bleeding? Did you not take him to the nurse before calling me?" Gladio barked. 

"M'fine," Ambrose mumbled, wiping his bloody split lip.

"No, you're not fine. Have you looked at yourself?!" Gladio pressed, gently grabbing the teen's jaw to look at him properly. 

Ambrose smacked his hand away, "I said I'm fine! I've had worse," he insists. 

This grabs Gladio's attention. "Wh--"

"That's not surprising," the other student says.

"Hey! Watch your mouth. You know nothing,  you got that?" Gladio defends him. "I beg your pardon!" The other parent interjected.

"Neither do you!" Ambrose yells, grunting before shoving his way past the behemoth fireman. 

"Mr. Vaughn! We haven't resolved this!" Mr. Fleuret calls.

Gladio is torn-- does he go after him? Or settle this?

"Look," Gladio turns around, "I'd really like to stay here and chat however, I need to report back to work. Could we nip this in the bud and discuss disciplinary actions?"

"It just warms my heart that you care so much about the situation, Mr. Amicitia," the educator scoffs.

Gladio glares at the blonde man. "What're getting at Ravus?"

"What I'm getting at, is that we have a serious issue at hand with your miscreant foster child, and your concerns are elsewhere with your profession,"

"In case you didn't know, or even _care_ to notice, but I'm a fireman, Sir. When I'm on the clock, my concern is that with the city and its citizens when they call for help-- which I'm currently away from-- not because I don't care. And for your information, I find your insensitivity regarding my child's living and guardian status offensive. Carelessly sharing private information about a student in front of another; to include their parent."

Gladio takes a few steps forward towards his desk, "Ambrose may have had some trouble in the past, but thats none of your damn business. And to call my child a miscreant due to his past, when _he_ ," Gladio points at the other boy, "should be the one to be the shit starter."

"Mr. Amicitia, we do not permit nor tolerate that sort of language on school premises," Ravus warned. "And to accuse the clear _victim_ for starting such matters is just, beyond me."

"Oh, victim huh?" Gladio looks at the other boy. "Tell us. What happened huh? You don't look at all scruffed up like your fellow classmate there pal,"

"Maybe because he sucks at fighting," he said smugly.

Ambrose is legally registered as a mastered mixed martial artist. All of his assault charges on his record were described as self defense against adults. It was laughable to even hear that explination. 

Gladio looks at Ravus once more, "I'm sure you've reviewed Ambrose's records-- that kid is lying."

"Well Mr. Amicitia it doesn't eliminate the possibility of Mr. Plaxton acting in self defense either," Mr. Fleuret retorts.

All Gladio could do was shut his mouth and nod his head. "Dont even have the whole story  and your pinning it on a child you don't care to know. Got it. I'll be sure to speak with Headmaster Caelum about this--"

"He's already aware of the matter and has entrusted me in what I see fits,"

"And what fits?"

"In school suspension and remedial detention."

Gladio makes an incredulous face, "What the fuck is remedial detention?"

"I believe Taron and I may be dismissed, Mr. Fleuret?" Mrs. Plaxton suggests.

"Oh, yes, I do apologize for Mr. Amicitia's behavior,"

"Well I don't," Gladio adds.

"That's enough! Sit down and so we may discuss this in a civil manner."

The pair leave the older gentlemen, and shut the door tightly behind them-- while they discuss the home environment he and his husband provide for adolescent children. Which, didn't exactly go over well. And...we'll just leave it at that. No one wants to know about the string of profanities Gladio spat in Ravus' face, which only happened because he insulted Gladio and his 'alternative domestic partner's ' idea of raising children-- especially those of the troubled sort (the poisonous burdens seeking handouts, Fleuret's words).

Gladio didn't even care about the impression he left on the educator. He fucking dared anyone who would use this over his kid's head. This was between to adults.

He asked the secretary where the infirmary was located, hoping to find Ambrose. To his luck, he was there-- getting bandaged up by an elderly woman.

"Now, take these aspirin and lie down. I will inform your fourth period professor you will be missing their class."

"Thank you, Miss Gransbrae,"

"Not at all dear!"

Seeing the white bandages on Ambrose made Gladio's stomach sink. ' _I've had worse_ ', plays through his mind. This was pretty bad in his opinion. If the kids had worse, Gladio didn't want to know what that would look like.

"Hey kiddo," Gladio croaks. They both turn to see Gladio standing in the doorway.

"And you must be the father," the nurse beams.

"Um,  _foster_ father," Ambrose polity corrects.

Gotta admit...it stung. I mean technically speaking,  he was correct. But it as the way he said made it seem so...so sad. Like, he's been taught to say that. Ingrained and impersonal.

"Right. Well, I'll be back shortly," the elderly woman says, taking her leave. 

It's a bit awkward. Gladio was still fuming over the shouting match from the Vice Asshole back there, and Ambrose is here clearly uncomfortable with the entire ordeal.

Gladio eyes the teen, calculating his next move. He reaches for the chair the nurse was sitting in, and makes himself comfortable.

Now face to face with Ambrose (somewhat), Gladio could maybe talk this through. He leans forward, resting on his knees, "You wanna talk about it?" He asks gently, rubbing is hands together.

Ambrose rolls his eyes, " _No_ , I don't wanna talk about it," he says as if he were stating the obvious. "But," he adds, sighing deeply, "you're gonna make me tell you anyway."

"I won't make you do anything you don't want to Rose." Gladio says shaking his head. Ambrose glares at Gladio, probably jot appreciating the nickname. "Sorry. Didn't mean to call you that," he pedals back. "It's just," he scoots in closer, "would I prefer you to tell me? Well, of course. I care what happens-- in the right or wrong-- doesn't matter. I want facts. I don't want you being blamed for something you didn't do,"

"And what makes you think I didn't do anything? You know jack shit about me."

Gladio nods, "For the most part thats true. But...your records say other things that aren't necessarily negative."

The teen leans away, "What're you talking 'bout?"

"I'm talking about your registry. 13 right? Perfected judo and krav maga? Thats impressive. Not easy to accomplish either,"

Ambrose shrugs, "What's you're point?"

"You don't use them if you don't have to. Especially on defenseless _kids_."

"Well...yea," Ambrose shrugs again, loosening his arms covering his stomach. "But that doesn't explain what you just said,"

"What I'm saying is, I know you didn't start it. You're not the one to blame. You're innocent. I mean, looked like you didn't hit the little bastard,"

Ambrose sits there, not sure what to say.

"You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to, but it would help. Especially when Prom flips shit from seeing your face like this," Gladio explains. Aside from the split bottom lip, he had a black eye, several scratches, and it looked like his piercing may have been ripped out.

Ambrose sighs, looking away annoyed. His bounced his leg, probably debating if he should spill or not.

"Look, it's not a big deal, okay? It was fucking stupid,"

"What was so stupid about it?" Gladio asked, scooting closer.

"He literally bumped into me. And I was like ' 'cuse you!' And he got all mad and shoved me. I shoved him back, and he hit me,"

"Is that all?"

Ambrose nods. He took a breath to say something else, but he chose not to.

"Please don't do that," Gladio asked calmly.

"Do what?"

"Not say what you want to say. It's just us. Speak your mind."

Gladio waited. He saw the teen struggling with himself to bottle up his emotions and be up front about his thoughts.

"Don't you have to get back to work?" He deflected. _Welp, so much for that I guess_. 

"I'm not worried about that right now. I'm more concerned with your well being--"

"Said m'fine, Gladio...Jesus."

It's only been a day. It's only been a day.

"Alright, well," Gladio stands to stretch, "Prom may not see it that way. Don't say I didn't warn you,"

Ambrose presses in his eyes and rubs his temples. Prompto. Ugh, he really didn't want to deal with that later. He had looked at him with so much promise, trying to hide his worry.

"Yaaay, can't wait," the student deadpanned.

"But look, I'd take you home but, Fleuret says you have in school suspension and remedial detention," Gladio sighing in defeat. 

Ambrose makes a face, "What the fuck is remedial detention?" He asked seriously.

Gladio puts his hands up and shrugs, "Hell if I know, but you'll find out what all that entails after school."

It doesn't surprise Gladio to see the teen roll his eyes famously. He couldn't blame him. The whole situation was fucked.

"Alright deary," the elderly nurse returns with a tray of food. "I managed to grab a few items for you to munch on-- seeing as you missed the entire lunch period," she shes the tray down. "Ah, that nearly rhymed." She smiles.

Gladio stays a bit longer to thank the nurse for her care and says bye to his foster son. Gladio hated making the call to Prom, who of course freaked out, and explaining what happened. Prom yapped on about unfairness and how Ravus should be put up for review. With that news out of the way, Gladio made it back to work just in time bwfore the alarm rang-- the perfect distraction.

 

 

Lemme tell you something. Remedial detention? Stupidest fucking thing to ever exist. It was fucking chores. After school campus beautification. Punishment. 

What a crock of shit. 

Instead of going home at 2:30, he was finally released four fucking hours later-- after football and cheer and all that bullshit practice was over. After! Ugh...how long did that asshole say this was for? Oh wait, that's right, he _didn't_.

When Ambrose was finally released, he walked through the main entrance to see Prompto pacing back and forth outside the car, with Lux and Hy rock climbing a statue that sat in the center of the traffic circle main entrance drop off.

"Hey," Ambrose says in a tired voice, getting the blonde's attention.

His eyes shot wide as he lunged at him for a bear hug. He fussed over the boy, looking him over and asking if he was okay.

Prom agonized for hours when he got the call from Gladio. It was like pulling teeth to have Ravus transfer his call to Regis. After having a true civil conversation, Prompto and Regis were able to negotiate appropriate terms for both students, and not just Ambrose-- seeing as the foster teen merely shoved Taron off of him when the the first punch was thrown (not to mention the severity of Ambrose's injuries compared to the lack there of Taron's). 

There was not much he could do about the in school suspension. It was pointless for the boy to go to school but not be allowed to be given his homework or work on assignments. Annnd! Saturday school... really? Why? He still couldn't work on assignments. He still couldn't read ahead to be able to catch up. It was fucking stupid. Now Prompto has to re-schedule the boy's check up.  _Great, just stacking on more disadvantages than he already has. Great. Just fucking perfect_ , Prompto thought.

Prompto didn't lecture the teen. In his opinion, there was no reason to. He and Gladdy practically stayed up all night reviewing all the files on their foster son. There were a handful of things they needed to watch out for; but other than that, they both agreed they should give him the opportunity to prove other wise. Should he fuck up, it will be dealt with quickly and accordingly. It was a good start to establish trust and healthy communication.

After getting home for the second time, Prompto got the younglings ready for bed to give Ambrose some space and wind down from his worst first day ever. He felt conflicted on what he should do. Talk to him, give him space, encourage him, or lighten the situation. It was just...ugh!

 

Ambrose hears a knock at the door, walking over to it to open the door and seeing the freckled blonde parent. "Hey bud,"

Ambrose steps aside opening the door to let the home owner in. 

Prompto stood there awkwardly, "You're just gonna let me in?"

"Why wouldn't I? Its your house," the teen replies as if it were obvious. _Well no, 'cause it's fact_.

"Um...well, yea but this is your room. Your space. Your place of privacy. So, I mean, I'm still going to respect those things even if your living under our roof, Ambrose,"

The young brunette blinks, "Then are y'gonna come in or what?"

"Only if you'll have me,"

"Oh my Goddd," Ambrose groans, walking away with the door left open.

"Sooooo, is that a yes or--"

"Just come in!"

Prompto hops in the room quickly from the teen's sudden command. 

He stands in the middle of the room, seeing as Ambrose hasn't settled in yet, with his personal bag still jammed pack-- shoe boxes still in their store bags. The black trash bag still sitting in the corner of the room. Which, ya know, was cool. It was only a day. He could take all the time he needed to feel comfortable here. Right? Right!

"Sooo uh..." Prompto started.

Ambrose leans his neck forward a bit, waiting for the rest of Prom's sentence.

"Pssssh...what a day, amirite?"

"...Really?" Ambrose deadpan.

"I'm sorry. I just-- I wanna make sure you're okay. But I know your not, at least not physically. Or maybe you are. I dunno. It's a stupid thing to ask. And I don't want to _not_ acknowledge what happened, but you weren't in the wrong, like _at all._ But I wanna give you space from what happened and the after school shit," Prompto took a deep breath from speaking so fast he felt he let out some stress when he sighed. "I just...we want to make sure we're actually here for you. That we're doing what we need to, if that makes sense?"

It was a lot to take in. Seeing Prom be so frantic about this whole situation from what he spat out. Prompto doesn't know what to do. Hell, _Ambrose_ doesn't even know how to respond.

"S'fine. M'okay. Promise," the teen mutters. Prompto still looks panini pressed; unconvinced that this whole shit sandwich was 'okay'. How could it be okay?! In what world did this kid endure for this to be NBD?

"Okay, no offense but even though you say it's okay and your fine, it's really not," Prom expresses. "I don't know anything about you but, I really care about what's happening. And I'm telling you, this is not okay. People don't deserve to be treated like this. You know that right?"

Ambrose shrugged. He understood the concept of how people should be treated. However, his experience since he was 11 proved otherwise. That the world wasn't as nice and happy go lucky as other proclaimed it to be. "Whatever man. If you care, cool. At least one of us does. But I'm fine. So drop it,"

Promlpto visibly slumped his shoulders. _He...alright then..._

"Alright, well," Prompto cleared his throat, "get ready for bed. Be sure to clean your cuts. Gladio said you've experienced your piercing being ripped out before so-- take good care of that,"

"I will,"

"Right. Well, good night. Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bite." He said with a forced smile.

Prom left the room, closing the door gently behind him. God. That was just...Gladio wasn't kidding about the little things he's heard the teen say when he had called him. How were they going to get through to him? He didn't think all he needed to do was simply give love and attention to any foster kid. You had to work hard to earn their trust. To push yourself and never give up on them. But teens, who are learning about themselves and going through their problems, it was harder to be the influence they've always needed. It hurt. The cynical outlook Ambrose had on this home. The careless mindset of others doing wrong to and by him. 

Prom knew how fucked up foster life could be. Had met plenty of teens in his shoes who were just like Ambrose. But as a parent, it's different. How, he didn't know. It just was.

It hurt. But it motivated him. He didn't want to prove Ambrose wrong in the sake of pride. But to prove to the teen if he truly controlled his mentality on his situation and really _see_ how much they do, will, and always care for him-- aged out or not, relocated or not-- he could be so much happier. There's always way more to the picture but he had to start somewhere. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Hi. Sorry for the long wait. After Promptio week, life responsibilities, and other ~~neglected~~ projects I've finally updated. It's longer than the previous two so, hope you enjoy it :) Happy Reading

After Ambrose spent his entire first week of the academy in in-school suspension, remedial detention, and Saturday school, Prompto received yet another phone call from Ravus.

Apparently Ambrose was accused of cheating on tests given by his teachers. The vice head master had explained there was no possible way for Ambrose to pass such tests without copying answers from another student.   
  
"Maybe he actually paid attention in class and retained the information?" Prompto questioned. That is, until Ambrose spoke up--

"I was told I couldn't take notes or study in detention. That didn't limit or excuse me from recording my lessons, or snapping pictures of the homework on the board with my phone," Ambrose spoke properly with the smuggest grin anyone could have ever witnessed. "After detention, I'd go home, study, and do the homework. All of my 'late' assignments are turned in already."

Prompto failed to suppress a snort of laughter.

The teen even went on to explain he had no friends to rely on giving him answers, was assigned the back row of each and every class, and no other students sat around him.

To much argument Mr. Fleuret tried to pull with the Headmaster Caelum, he lost that battle. Many of the teachers were shocked, yet impressed with the loophole Ambrose found. Some of them required the boy to retest, with a different form of questions and answers. And again, Ambrose proved otherwise of how wrong they were to accuse him of such acts.

Prompto ensured they would celebrate with a fast food dinner and dessert.

But one thing was rather curious...

"Why'd you do it?" Prompto asked the teen. They sat in the drive-thru waiting in line for other customers to receive their orders.

"Do what?" Ambrose asked, fully engrossed in King's Knight.

"You know-- record your lessons, study, the homework...why'd you do it?"

Conquering his battle and collecting his reward, Ambrose locks his phone and turns to Prompto, giving an offended look.

"What, y'think 'M dumb or somethin'?"

"No-no! I didn't say that! I-I mean-- you and I both know you didn't come here with the best grades,"

Ambrose huffed, returning back to his game, "I have those grades 'cause I had shitty teachers,"

Prom sagged a bit, face softening. "W..what do you mean?" He hoped the teen didn't redirect blame for his own failures, as most students often did.

Annoyed, Ambrose locks his phone once more. "What I mean is, I had shitty teachers who always thought I was lazy, cheated, and no good. That back there? Happened all the time. No one defended me, no one gave me second chances, but everyone let me go down in the spiral of shitty treatment. That's what I mean,"

The parent said nothing. What could he possibly say? There was nothing, absolutely _nothing_ , he could say to help or change what his foster son experienced. 

He knew there were low quality of teachers who regretted wasting their time on a career they had no passion for. He knew some educators took their frustrations out on students, and their learning suffered because of it.

Just like Ambrose. 

But you know what though? Prompto was proud. Proud because even though Ambrose had been given the short end of the stick, he still made some efforts to _try_. He wasn't a quitter. Whatever shred of hope he held on to, was enough to let himself give everything a chance.

"How did it feel to tell off Fleuret?" Prompto asked through a chuckle.

The younger's face faltered from its scowl. It took him a moment but you could see the very small smile in his lips. And that was enough of an answer.

A honk blared at them from behind, startling the parent. "Sorry!" Prompto yelled, releasing the parking brake and shifting into gear to go to the window. He hadn't realized their conversation had not only held up traffic but the cars in front of them were long gone.

 

When the kids learned they were having McMoogle's for dinner, they naturally freaked. Ambrose had never seen his foster siblings move so fast with a purpose to get homework and chores done. Gladio, who had come home from his shift earlier that day and picked the kids up from school since Prom had to go to Crownsguard, asked him why they were having fast food for dinner (a very rare occasion for the blonde to call).

"Ambrose not only got good grades on his tests, but he sassed Ravus for good reason," Prompto explained.

Confused he waited for him to continue why the both parts were worth treating to a er- _special_ dinner.

"Ambrose was studying all that time in his room-- y'know, after coming home from detention? He recorded his lessons with his phone! Took notes at home, studied, did his homework and saved them for turn in. He had several tests yesterday covering the material he missed, and all of his teachers accused him of cheating, can you believe that? That's why I got called in. Some of his teachers made him retake their tests, and he still got everything right. So when Fleuret said all those things, Ambrose shut him up with little loopholes,"

Gladio nodded in approval, clearly impressed. McMoogle's was definitely worth the treat (and cheating on his diet). 'Cause fuck Ravus, Gladio thought.

 

 

As the weeks passed by, Ambrose proved he was actually an excelling scholar. His citizenship still needed work, seeing as he never participated in classes and always had issues with Taron who accompanied him in those classes. Which was another matter.

Their dislike for each other was founded on Ambrose's first day of class, but continued to grow on pettiness and immaturity. Spewing insults, shouldering each other as they passed by in the hallways, playing keep and hide away with their belongings--- now it was rumors. About the foster boy.

He could hear not so subtle whispers from his classmates, curious about if the rumors were true, since no one knew him all that well.

He could hear them now.

"You think it's true?"

"How would I know?"

"Well I dunno! Go ask him!"

"No way you go ask!"

"Fine, fine,"

Students he didn't know would come up to him and ask the repetitive question, hoping to get a different answer to confirm or deny the rumor mill.

"Dude, are you fucking gay?"

Was this really the rumor Taron chose to spread? Jesus.

Ambrose looked at them with a puzzled expression. He didn't confirm or deny it of course because 1) the way they asked was rude as fuck. And 2) it was none of their business. Who were they to judge if he was?

But of course this question was always asked by fellow male students. The girls could care less, except whine about how they couldn't be his girlfriend, or whatever. Not that it would ever happen-- since they didn't talk to him, even on a friendly basis.

He wasn't being treated any worse or differently since the rumor began. So maybe no one cared (except the source of it of course), true or not.

 

Except maybe  _one_ other...

 

It was almost laughable after a few days of dealing with that stupidity, that Ambrose just may be in fact found out-- if he made it obvious. And I say this because, one morning, a dark skinned boy sat in the seat next to Ambrose's. _New student? This late in the semester? It's almost Christmas break..._

With each step he took closer to his seat, he took in the new student's features. Short black coarse hair, dark brown eyes, seemed rather bulky-- if the way his jacket seemed to strain at the seams suggested. And oh God, was that a friendly nervous smile? 

"Uh, hi. I'm Gauge," the new student introduced himself, voice smooth and deep.

Ambrose dropped his bag beside his chair, taking his seat carefully, rather than plopping into it carelessly as usual.

 _Gauge, huh? That's an interesting name_.

"Ambrose," he murmured in response. Gauge smiled kindly, looking around as the room filled with their classmates, along with their teacher.

"Good morning everyone. Please take your seats and settle down. First thing's first-- we have another new student joining our class. Please welcome Euriel Takka," the teacher announced, motioning his hand for the student to rise. "If you please, introduce yourself,"

"I'm Euriel Takka. I just moved up here from Hammerhead. My family is originally from Lestallum. I play lacrosse and um...I guess that's all to me?"

Ambrose looks at him curiously as he sits down once more, which he seems to notice the teen's look.

"What?" Gauge whispers.

"Euriel? Y'told me your name's Gauge,"

"Oh, ha. Yea uh, it's just what I go by. My dad started calling me that when I was little and I dunno..."

"Soooo, why not tell everyone else you prefer to go by that instead?"

Gauge smiles, "I like to sort out the ones who to call me by it,"

_Um, okay?_

"Sure...so, why Gauge?"

The other shrugs, "Something about a movie and a pet cemetery, or something?"

Ambrose laughs, confused yet amused. They return their attention to the lecture. Which is hard to focus because holy shit Ambrose was so incredibly curious about this curiously friendly boy.

 

"So Ambrose, you planning to play any sports next semester?" Prompto asked over dinner.

He shrugged, "Maybe if I'm here long enough,"

Gladio rolls his eyes as dramatically as Ambrose claims his stay here. Ignoring the comment, he asks what sports he enjoys the most.

The teen shrugs. "Guess 'M pretty good at baseball,"

"You should definitely try out next spring," Prom encourages. The smile on his face continues to show his high hopes for the teen. And even after hearing the depressing comment.

"Do ya have any friends yet?!" Hy asks.

The teen pauses mid bite into his dinner, thinking if he and Gauge are friends. Acquaintances, maybe? "I think I made a friend today. But, who knows,"  
  
"You 'think'? What's there to think about?" Lux asked with a smart tone.  
  
"Well I just met him today smartass-- can't really say we're friends if we just met,"  
  
"Ambrose," Gladio warns, voice deep and rumbling.  
  
"So just one friend huh?" Prompto asking, wanting to resume the conversation of their foster son settling in his new school.  
  
Ambrose nods, covering his mouth as he speaks around his food, "I don't think everyone else is interested in being my friend with the way they talk sh-- stuff, about me,"

"Who's giving you a hard time?" Gladio prodded.

"No one important,"

"Is it that little shit Taron?" Gladio guesses angrily.

"Gladdy!" Prom hissed.

"Don't repeat that," Gladio half heartedly warns the kids, earning a 'we know' response in unison.

"S'not a big deal," Ambrose says into his food, taking another bite.

"So it _is_ him," Gladio discovers, anger boiling up. "I don't like that kid. Not one bit,"  
  
"How d'you think I feel?" Ambrose snorts.  
  
Prompto shifts in his seat, trying not to be too obvious in fishing for more information. "Well, what's he saying? You know you can tell us anything,"  
  
The teen doesn't expect himself to even entertain the idea of telling the foster parents about this matter. It's not like the rumor was really affecting him by any means. Sure, it was annoying as fuck but he wasn't being ostracized for it specifically. Would it even matter all that much either way?  
  
"Just saying I'm gay n stuff,"  
  
"What's gaaay?" Hy asks.  
  
"What your dads' are?" Ambrose replies, a little confused the boy didn't know that already.  
  
"Well techincally I'm bi," says Gladio.  
  
"You're in a gay marriage Gladio," Prompto deadpans.  
  
" _Are_ you gay?" Lux asks.  
  
"Lux!" her parents hiss.  
  
"What? I'm only _asking_. Are you?"  
  
"Hella," the teen replies.  
  
It's quiet at the table now, assuming everyone surrounding it weren't expecting an actual answer-- more specifically the adults. Not that they needed an answer or even questioned it; because none of that shit mattered to them. Their kids were who they were and were going to love them the same no matter who they brought home.  
  
"Well, either way, I'm surprised that's still even a thing these days-- the gay rumor mill. You'd figure by now things have changed and be a little more accepting but, I guess not huh?" Prompto comments, trying to put the conversation a little more at ease (for him). "No one's harassing you, right?"  
  
"No one really knows if I am or not, so they're just bein' annoying and asking me all day everyday hoping I give an answer by now,"  
  
Gladio narrows his eyes, "From the sound of that, it seems like this has been going on for a while now. Am I wrong?"  
  
Ambrose eyes him for a moment, almost saying to drop the subject, and ignores the firefighter. 

"Well since a lot of people seem to have a problem, maybe this new uh,  _aquaintance_ of yours won't care if you're gay," Prom interjects. "And if you two become friends, you're more than welcome to bring them over to hang out.  
  
The idea of bringing a friend over almost made everything too homey for Ambrose when hearing it. He doesn't really know what to think or what to say to that. It's obviously a nice gesture, but... he couldn't understand it just yet himself. Or what to make of Gauge-- despite his impressions and thoughts on the new student. "Yea...maybe," he murmurs.  
  
  
  
  
"So I've been thinking," Prompto says, dipping his head back in the shower spray, "we should get Ambrose something really nice for his birthday. It's coming up,"  
  
"Next Friday right? The 13th? Big one six...have anything in mind?" Gladio asks, lathering up his loofah.  
  
"Well I was hoping you might have some ideas. I mean, we don't really know any of his hobbies or anything. He doesn't really talk to us like that,"  
  
"You're guess is as good as mine then. Part of me thinks he hates me,"  
  
Prom opens his eyes, squinting to avoid water trickling in them. "What makes you think that?" Gladio shrugs. "Well, he doesn't hate you...at least I don't think,"  
  
"Didn't you say his teachers are advising he bump up to advanced placement classes? Somethin' about it not being challenging enough for him?" Gladio asks.  
  
"Yea! They're hoping the classes will challenge him academically. So his schedule will change after winter break,"  
  
"Hmm. Maybe get him a laptop?" Gladio suggests, handing Prompto his loofah to get his back. "I know he uses the kiddo's desktop downstairs for assignments sometimes. Other than that I think he actually hand writes his papers. Killer cursive if you ask me,"   
  
"That's actually a good idea. You have a few days off around that time, yea? If I did some research, could you please go out and pick one up? Birthday card and everything?"  
  
"God you're such a _Dad_. I love it," Gladio chuckles, turning around to kiss his blonde beauty. "But yea sure, I can do that. Also, I think we should maybe teach the kid how to start driving-- thoughts?" he says between kisses.  
  
"Same," another kiss, "teach him how to drive manual first? Then auto?"  
  
"Mm," the firefighter agrees, coming in to close the gap between them. "Ya know, I really love how selfless you are," Gladio admits.  
  
"Whaddya mean?"  
  
"Y'know...you don't care about dishing out money to make sure Ambrose has what he needs."  
  
"Well, it's not as if you don't care or not as selfless..."  
  
"True. But...you make me want to be the best. A better Dad. Everyday."  
  
Prompto can't help but smile and bury his face in Gladdy's chest. He felt they both brought out their best in each other, no matter the situation. Prom has had plenty of moments where he felt sub par compared to his husband however, his partner never once made him feel that way. And with hearing this...there was a slim chance Gladio may have felt the same at times-- which is normal in parenthood. But at the end of the day, it's how you both applied yourself to each other for your children. And God did they want to share and express their love for their children. And yes-- that includes Ambrose; even if it meant being pushed away or shut out. They needed to earn  _his_ trust-- not the other way around. Not through a sense of false love through gifts, but what they  _wanted_ to provide. Equal treatment, thought, and inclusion.   
  
  
  
  
To much his surprise, Gauge is the closest person to being identified as a friend to Ambrose than anyone else he's met in this one week compared to his short life thus far. The boy's persistent friendly personality and conversations in class, and even his joining under his favorite tree at lunch, this perfect stranger has managed to wedge himself in life. Better than his foster parents had (not to their fault seeing as Ambrose still feels intrusive to their lives). Ambrose couldn't help but feel reserved at first, hoping this wasn't a ruse of some sort. Which Ambrose knew was an irrational thought however, he chose not to have history repeat itself.  
  
"Hey so I got invited to a party this Saturday. Wanna come with?" Gauge asked Ambrose. The teen may not have had any other friends in the school, but people talk. And boy do they talk rather loudly and in a boasting manner. Ambrose knew it was Taron's Christmas party he was throwing over break at his parents house while they themselves attended some sort of charity event for the holiday. And from the looks of it, Gauge had no fucking clue they didn't get along. Which, again, was kinda weird since it'sone of the few things studrnt here talk about.  
  
"Um...'M not sure. Taron n' I don't get along," Ambrose explains simply. Gauge makes a face of realization and look regretful for bringing the subject up. "S'fine man. Don't worry 'bout me,"  
  
"Well, I didn't know about--"  
  
"How wouldja have known? Like I said, s'fine. 'M not gonna tell you who you should or shouldn't be friends with." the brunette concluded as the final bell rang. He quickly gathered his belongings to head to the ASB before needing to call Gladio to get picked up after school.

"Eh, I wouldn't say he and I are exactly 'friends'. He thinks we are but I'm just being friendly," Gauge hesitantly said, rubbing the back of his neck.  
  
"So what does this make us?" Ambrose asked bitterly. He could feel himself already getting annoyed. Gauge was gonna go to a guy's party just to be _polite?_    
  
"Uh, friends?" Gauge stated as a matter of fact. "That's why I asked if you wanted to go. Bring someone who I know and like hanging out with,"  
  
The pair make their way through the herd of students exiting campus grounds as soon as possible to begin their winter break, doing their best not to bump in and shoulder others. "But we haven't even hung out," Ambrose points out, reaching out for the ASB office door, letting Gauge in first.  
  
"Wanna hang out today?" Gauge suggests almost as if the solution was easy enough. Which, yea, it was. But it was so last minute and the brunette wasn't sure if it would pose as a problem at home.   
  
Before Ambrose could answer, another student asks what the two needed, as they were ready to close the office since a faculty meeting was about to commence for the remaining staff. "Yea can we each get a Spring Sport packet-- er, please," with a nod and a quick handout, they leave together and join the flow of student traffic to the main yard.  
  
Gauge explains his parents are at work and going to an empty home is something he'd rather not do but, hang out with him instead. And ugh God the little dejected look in his face punches Ambrose in the chest. _Fuck._ And once again, before Ambrose could answer, he hears the familiar blaring of Gladio's truck horn, along with Hy reaching over Lux to wave outside the window. The teen sighs, "C'mon."  
  
He can see a studious look on Gladio's face through the window shield, clearly looking at the boy walking next to him. "Hey kiddo, ready to go?" the fireman asks, hitting the unlock button for the door.  
  
"Uh yea. Would it be okay if he came over to hang out?" Ambrose nods over his shoulder to the other, which Gauge waves with a radiant smile.  
  
"Sure! Your parents cool with that?" Gladio asks past his foster son. With the same short explanation Gauge provided just moments ago to Ambrose, Gladio tells him to hop in.  
  
"I'm Gladio. You can call me that or Mr. A, I don't care which," the fireman introduces himself. "The little one next to you is Hy, and the other one is Lux." The teen says hello to them as he buckles himself in his seat.  
  
"I'm Euriel, but you can call me Gauge,"  
  
Gladio looks up in the rear view mirror to the teen, "Gauge? Like, as in Pet Sematary?"  
  
"Haha, yea. But it's spelled with a 'U',"  
  
"Nice,"  
  
"What is that?" Lux curiously asks.  
  
"It's an older movie. Came out when I was like...I dunno, 2 or somethin'?--"  
  
"Christ you're old," Ambrose chuckled, earning a playful smack on his arm by the man himself.  
  
"I'm not  _that_ old. Anyway, it's kinda creepy. Or at least I remember it being creepy. And there's a character, named Gage, whose in it," Gladio explains. He goes on to say how great the film is, as it was a film adaption from a book written by a well known author. However, Ambrose doesn't pay much attention to what he's saying. His mind is preoccupied with the fact that Gauge was going to learn sooner or later Gladio isn't his real dad. Or that he has another male parent at home. Not that he was ashamed of having a gay couple fostering him, no. But the mere fact he was in foster care. And he felt foolish-- suddenly caring about what someone else might think of his situation and how it may cost him the company. He was surprised Taron hadn't told everyone about it first, instead just spreading that dumb rumor. Ambrose hoped Gauge wouldn't make his current situation a topic of interest when they returned to school-- or beforehand, by texting whoever... And this way of thinking wasn't fair.  
  
  
Turning down the street, Ambrose's heart sank when he saw the familiar maroon sedan parked on the street right outside the house.  _Oh God, of all days, why today?_ A state visit.   
  
"What the ffff _udge_ ," Gladio hissed to himself, clearly upset regarding the unannounced visitation. Unlocking his phone, he sees a text notification from Prom about the drop in. Well...at least he tried to give him a heads up?  
  
"Hey uh, Gauge? I have somethin' t'do real quick-- so you can hang out in my room," Ambrose says rather nervously. Gauge nods, not saying anything as he sees this situation, whatever it may be, is making his friend anxious. Not that it was any of his business however, he hoped everything was okay for his sake.  
  
The children show Ambrose's guest to his room as he and Gladio join Prompto and the case worker in the formal room, like they had last left off a little less than 4 months ago.  
  
"Hey guys, welcome home," Prompto greeted them, standing to kiss him husband and side hug the teenager. "Mr. Izunia got here about 10 minutes ago for a visit," he explains.  
  
"Yes, I do apologize for the sudden drop in. However, as you must know the holidays are approaching and I would hate to intrude during family gatherings," Ardyn stated. "Normally I would call ahead of time, but my supervisor had this particular meeting in mind, rather."  
  
_Of fucking course,_ the three of them thought.  
  
"Thank you for welcoming me under such circumstances," the case worker continues.  
  
"Of course. These things happen," Prompto excuses happily with a tight lipped (annoyed) smile.  
  
"Right. So! How have things been for you since taking in Mr. Vaughn?"  
  
"Very well. We haven't had any instances as noted in his files. And he's doing very well in school," the blonde answered.  
  
"Is that right? Because I do recall Mr. Ravus Fleuret informing me of some sort incident instigated by Mr. Vaughn when I phoned him yesterday. Care to explain?"  
  
"Yea, some punk kid started a fight with Ro-- Ambrose. Headmaster Caelum and my husband sorted the matter out as it wasn't entirely his fault as the other student made it out to be. He served all this detentions," Gladio jumped in immediately. The event still sparked fury for Gladio, marking it personal whenever it was brought up.  
  
"I see. I'll be requesting a report regarding the incident, just so it can hold some ground in favor for Mr. Vaughn for future visits," he jots down the thought down on his notepad. "Since we're on the subject, how is he in his studies?"  
  
"He's improved significantly actually! His teachers are recommending he be placed in advanced courses to academically challenge him. They believe the work load and material are proving to be 'too easy' for him," Prom explains.  
  
Nodding in approval, Mr. Izunia compliments the teen for his hard work. "Getting along with your children? No disciplinary issues? No? Good, good. I've been receiving your faxes with his updated doctor's visit and dental work, thank you for that. Now, if I may, I'd like to speak to Mr. Vaughn alone please,"  
  
"We'll be in the kitchen Ambrose, 'kay?" Gladio tells him, earning a 'yea, yea', nod nod.   
  
They both wait and watch as the couple exits the room to walk down the short hall and turn into the kitchen. Once they've disappeared, Ambrose turns to his case worker, sitting at the edge of his seat, hunched over and resting his elbows on his knees-- clearly displeased with the man for showing up out of no where.  
  
"So, Ambrose...how are things? Are you adjusting?" he asks with genuine interest.  
  
"Yea...trying to," Ambrose mumbles, looking down at the gap between his legs, staring at the floor. He holds his hands together, trying not to crack them as he usually does when he's uncomfortable or nervous.   
  
"Are they treating you well?"  
  
The teen scoffs, looking up at the older man. " _Too_ well,"  
  
"Oh come now. I don't think there's such a thing, considering your previous homes, you must be comfortable being here."  
  
"That's the thing. I've been re-homed so many times, I don't expect to stay here any longer. I sure as fuck didn't think I'd stay here longer than a month, but here I am...I almost wanna ruin it so I don't hurt anyone here..."  
  
"They obviously care about you, Ambrose. Do you not see that? Or choose to not to acknowledge it?"  
  
The teen remains silent, not knowing how to honestly answer. He doesn't want to go down that road-- bringing up his past and  _emotions_ , ugh, no thanks.   
  
"Well, I see you're doing well. Remember to call me if you have any problems, yes? I'll be off now," Ardyn says, seeing as continuing his interview with the boy would lead him no where. Ambrose stands, walking the gentleman to the door. "Oh, and Happy Birthday."  
  
Oh shit. That's  _today?_  
  
With the sound of the front door closing, Prom and Gladio come out of hiding. "Everything okay?" Gladio asks. Ambrose nods, blowing a large puff of air with force, helping him calm down some. Prompto walks up beside him, rubbing his back affectionately, offering some words of encouragement. "Hey, how 'bout you round up everyone to come downstairs. Gotta a surprise for you," he says. Ambrose does as he says, taking his time up the set of stairs.  
  
With everyone stampeding down the stairs, they're called into the kitchen. Gauge asks Ambrose if he's okay, to which he replies with a reassuring smile and a "Yea man." Satisfied with the answer, Gauge claps his friend on the shoulder, squeezing it lightly.  
  
"Um, Prompto? This is Gauge, the er,  _friend_ , I mentioned before," Ambrose says shyly, stepping aside for the parent to get a better look at the guest.  
  
"Oh hiii! It's so nice to meet a friend of Ambrose! Please just call me Prompto! Welcome to our home! Please, sit sit." Prom guides the boys to sit together on one side of the dinner table, as everyone else takes their seats. The peppy blonde darts into the garage for a moment, returning with a large gift wrapped box in hand, and several envelopes taped to the top of it.  
  
"Here you go. Happy Birthday bud," Prompto says happily, handing the gift over to the teen.   
  
It's comical how Ambrose blinks owlishly. I mean,  _obviously_ he wasn't expecting this. For fucks sake, the poor kid forgot his own birthday. How old was is now? Shit, 16, right? Lets see...carry the one...yea, 16 years old. _Fuck. Never thought I'd see the day..ha._ He hesitates at first, but accepts the gift with cautious hands. He feels everyone staring, waiting for him to tear into his present. "Don't be shy, go ahead n' open it," Gladio encourages, looking eager to see the boy's reaction.  
  
Ambrose peels the first envelope off, seeing as it was a birthday card. A check slips out, landing in his lap when he opens it. " _Three hundred g--_  I can't accept this," Ambrose protests, handing the slip back to Prompto-- only for him to cross his arms across his chest, clearly declining the check back.  
  
"You can, and you will," he says firmly. "Consider it a job well done for your grades from Gladdy and I, and grandpa Cor and Clar. They always sent a little something to the kids we watched, like their own grandchildren. So, please, take it."  
  
All the teen can do is shake his head, baffled that these people would just  _give_ him such a thing. "But I don't even have a bank to cash this out from,"  
  
"Open up the other envelope," Gladio nudges.  
  
Sighing (with great distress), he opens the next one. This time there's some sort of letter, along with some sort of access card with his name printed on it. Unfolding the letter, he notices it's from the Insomnia Central Bank, welcoming him as a member. Skimming over the rest of it, there's a statement attached to it. He currently held a balance of 1,280 Gil... _what?_ "I don't understand," he murmurs, re-reading the letter over and over again, coming back to the four digit number.  
  
"Prom and I believe that the money we receive, as much as a joke it is, belongs to you. So, over the past few months we've held off signing the checks until we got you enrolled as a member. But, since you're not 18, and your name isn't on the checks, we have to sign them, then transfer the funds over. Either way, it's all yours."  
  
Overwhelmed was all Ambrose could feel. It was obvious this was too much for him to handle, but he trucked through, keeping his emotions at bay with a tight lid. Setting the letter aside, he finally came face to the decorative paper dressed neatly over this mystery box. Fuck it...there was no changing their minds or convincing them to take back anything.  
  
So when the wrapping paper revealed a new laptop and a pair of choice headphones, what's there for a boy to do but be utterly speechless?   
  
It may have appeared as if Ambrose seemed disappointed in the gift however, it was quite the opposite. His mind struggled to keep up with processing what was happening to him all at once. Not just the gifts _now_ , but rather everything hitting him all at once. The complete embrace from four months ago to present genuine care. Being clothed and fed, being given a high education-- simply being  _trusted._  And what, may he ask, did an orphaned bastard of a delinquent child, deserve to be showered in their kindness. Clearly the couple wasn't buying him. That much was obvious. But even still-- knowing what their intention is, it was too good to be true. It just simply had to be.  
  
A soft voice draws the teen out of his running train of thought. Looking up he sees Prompto with an expression full of concern. "Everything okay? D..does this make you uncomfortable?" The last thing he wanted to do was put his foster son in a position where he felt obligated or hesitant to decline. Maybe he didn't need to accept everything. Or not right now, at the least?  
  
Shaking head, Ambrose waved the parent off, "N-no, no. I just...s'a lot to take in y'know? I uh...I don't have much so.." Which, yea, it was true. Anything Ambrose earned (or stole) for himself, was always taken away and to never be seen again. "M'not really good at this but uh..thanks. May not seem like it but...means a lot."  
  
Prompto beams, pleased everything was in fact alright. He could only imagine the struggles Ambrose may have gone through, so this was enough. His spouse however, looked at if he felt the teen was being under appreciative by the subtle glare he had aimed at the boy-- which didn't go unnoticed by him. Or Gauge.  
  
  
  
While dinner was being made, Ambrose felt obligated to tell Gauge about his so-called 'family'. Walking back up to the room, he finds Ireeni already waiting for him outside his door. She walks in first, tail low and dragging, jumping up to take her rightful place on ~~her~~ his pillow.

"Hey uh, in case you didn't notice, Gladio and Prom aren't my parents,"

Gauge had a deer in headlights look for a moment before cocling his head with an incredulous expression. "Um, okay?" He says pulling off his uniform coat and draping it over the desk chair. "I don't care...well, I not that I don't care but I mean, you're my friend. What kind of past you have or the family you come from doesn't matter to me." Gauge walks past the tan boy, rolling up his sleeves, and settles himself comfortably on the bed.

Following his movements, Ambrose turns around to face Gauge again. "What I mean is I'm in the system. Y'know, foster care?"

Again, Gauge responds to Ambrose's statement with a pause mid-way in rolling the eaining sleeve and a questionable face. "Okay? I mean, it's shitty you're in this situation, but they seem great and really care about you," he says, scratching behind the cats ears. "So...I dunno what point you want me to see here." 

For a moment Ambrose didn't know either. For the most part, growing up as a kid in the system, you learn a thing or two about people. One, how judgmental they are. And two? How quick they are to think less of you. So this...non-judgey reaction was unexpected. And the way Gauge was responding wasn't as if he didn't care-- it was just...why would he have a problem with it, he supposed? Or whatever...

"Yea I dunno either," Ambrose murmured, feeling a bit of a douche for having such an aggressive shield up. Joining Gauge, the pair decide to toy around with his new laptop, realizing it was in fact a pretty nice gaming computer and had more capabilities on it that what Ambrose probably needed. Which-- holy shit, how could he forget?

Springing off the bed, Ambrose dives into his closet, digging into his old backpack. Finding what he was looking for, he heads back to the latop, hooking up the launchpad.

"What's this?" Gauge asks, putting away the users manual. He carefuly picks up the blocky device to examine it.

"It's a launchpad. Used for EDM, remixes, and backdrops n' shit for tracks," he says dryly, fully engrossed in finding the right program to download. "S'been a minute since I've last used it. A couple homes ago my laptop broke-- thanks to the other fuckin' kids who took it. This n' some other stuff is all I have left. Guard it with my life."

Gauge puts the equipment down gently in exchange to watch over Ambrose's shoulder of what he was doing.

"Oh wow, my last sounds are still on here...jeez,"

"What does that mean?"

"Means the last sounds and cuts I programmed to these buttons are still the same. Look,"

Tapping a few of the squares, Ambrose explained how each one had a different effect. Gauge watched as Ambrose simply pressed a few buttons, making a rather nice beat. He listened intently to the other as he explained the set up of the pad, and each functionality per button. Ambrose looks up to see Gauge looking at him...fondly? Avoiding himself to blush and feeling-- _emotions_ \-- he clears his throat. "Er-- sorry. S'kinda complicated. Don't mean to bore ya."

The dark boy snorts, "You're not boring me. I may not know anything about this stuff, but seems like you're pretty good at this,"

Ambrose shrugs, "Eh. M' outta practice,"

"You just tapped a few things here and there and it like came back to you!" He explained pressingly. "Muscle memory, if you will." Gauge chalked it up.

"Yea well...I wanna get a better one. This is kinda old. But I want another one of these so I can do complicated mixes. Maybe even get a circuit," Ambrose says, gently running his fingers over the silicon buttons.

"How much are these?"

The teen shrugs, "Depends. Brand new is like...pffft, 150?"

Gauge gawks, "How did you get this then?"

Ambrose makes a guilty face, "Stole it."

Raising a questioning brow, Gauge slowly smiles, shaking his head.

"Yeeeeaaa, I have a bit of a past,"

"It's cool man. I get it. I mean...not _exactly_  but y'know what I mean. No judgement." Gauge says dismissively, putting his hands up.

Ambrose gives a half smile, feeling more at ease. "Well uh...if ya want, I can show you some more?" Agreeing to the suggestion, Ambrose sheds the first few layers of his uniform, relaxing into the vibe between them.

 

Accepting the last minute dinner invitation, Gauge takes a seat next to Ambrose, thanking Prompto and Gladio for allowing him to stay a bit longer before returning home.

"So Gauge, tell us a little about yourself," Gladio opens the conversation.

Quickly swallowing his first bite, Gauge talks a little bit about where he moved from, why, and what his parents do for a living.

"I heard about the Takka Truck. You're dad is quite popular in the downtown districts. A family friend loves the food," Gladio says, referring to Ignis. Apparently he and Noct live in the heart of the city for Noct's work, and always sends his interns to grab him lunch from Takka's. The one time he had left overs, Ignis had helped himself to it, immediately appreciating its home comfort taste.

"Heh, I'll be sure to tell him that," Gauge promises.

"I've met your mom a few times. She gives amazing motivational speeches at Insomnia's Teacher of the Year Awards. I imagine she's really busy, being the board director." Prom throws in. Gauge nods, explaining how she manages several departments and travels throughout Lucia regularly.

"Well, when they're not busy, we'd love to officially meet them," Gladio says seriously. "We'd like to meet all friends of R-- Ambrose's friends."

"Well I'm glad to have met his family," Gauge says with charm. Which, to any normal person, just sounded polite. But to Lux however...

"Is that all you wanna be, Gauge? _Friends?_ " Lux asked suggestively, earning a 'wtf face' from her foster brother. "What? It's just a question. He knows you're gay right?" 

Silverware clatters as they hit the plates around the table. "Lux!" Gladio says in his dad voice. 

"Sweetheart you can't just say those things," Prom begins. "That's up to your brother to mention. On _his_ time."

The girl shrugs, "It's out there now." 

Irritated, Gladio starts to stand, indicating he would talk to the girl. "Gladio, it's fine, honestly." Ambrose interjects. He hopes its enough to rescue the kid. And thankfully, it is. He doesn't know what's gotten into her but, he's dealt with a lot worse from his previous foster homes regarding his sexuality.

It's tense at the dinner table, and things couldn't get possible more uncomfortable, could they? Wrong.

"Are you gay too? Is that why you're friends?" Hy asks out of nowhere.

"You guys!" Prompto exclaims. "I'm so sorry Gauge, you don't have to answer that."

The dark boys chuckles, flicking his fingers up to dismiss the apology. "It's okay Mr. A," he says into his napkin, wiping the corner of his mouth. "But um, if it helps? Uh, I don't mind Ambrose is gay. Kinda helps things for me as far as making friends." He takes a large gulp of his water. 

Ambrose turns his torso to look at the boy. "Really?" Gauge nods.

"Yea I mean, I let people figure it out for themselves."

Okay. Yea sure, Ambrose wasn't going around announcing that he likes dicks, but he did not expect this. His track record of accurately identifying other gay or bi men wasn't the best. But this? It was already bad with his small sparked fire of a crush. But now it was worse. Like pouring gasoline and hope dangling dangerously close above the raging flames.

 

After some birthday peach cobbler,  Gladio offered to take Gauge home. Which to be honest was wise-- after the kids behavior at dinner, Gladio had zero patience, tolerance, or gentle sensitivity to explain to them why what they said was inappropriate. 

Ambrose of course tagged along, not wanting to subject his friend to awkward silences or small talk with his foster dad.

Gladio had the radio low, playing on his favorite rock station. He took careful notes of how to get to the boy's house-- just in case he would need to come here again in the (near) future. 

"Well, this is the end of the road for us. Thanks for staying for dinner and uh, again, sorry 'bout the youngins,"

"Again, it's okay Mr. A. It was really nice meeting all of you. I'd be happy to come over again sometime, if that's okay."

"More than okay. Great meeting ya! Have a good night. Enjoy your break."

"Thanks," Gauge leans forward, "See you later." He says to Ambrose with his hand on his shoulder.

"Yea. I'll text you."

With that, they waited until the boy was inside before leaving. 

"Actually," Gladio realizes, putting the truck in park. "We didn't even tell you at home but uh,  we're gonna teach you how to drive. Wanna give it a go?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhh--"

"You can say no, kiddo."

"No. Today's been enough, thanks."

"Alright. Maybe another day."

They pull away from the curb and drive down the street of the suburban neighborhood. The drive is quiet. Too quiet for Ambrose's liking, opposite to his preference, considering the things that have happened today.

"What's on your mind kiddo?"

"Nothing." Ambrose quickly dismisses.

Gladio laughs lightly, resting his temple on his fist, elbow resting on the truck door, other hand on the wheel. "Yea right. I can smell the smoke comin' out of yer ears. C'mon, out with it-- what's going on?"

The teen chooses to remain quiet. He may have let his guard down with Gauge, but that was different.

"Alright. Lemme take a shot, yea? Clearly, today was a lot to take in today. With you bringing Stephen King over, Izunia stopping by, the money, the laptop-- the birthday pie, even-- too much to handle right? Even just now. Me and Prom wantin' to teach you how to drive."

Home fucking run.

"Look, before you say anything bud, just-- hear me out, kay?" Gladio sighs, hoping what hes about to say will actually stick with his foster son. "Everything we do for you,  _is_  for you. We  _want_  to, alright? I don't know exactly but I'm pretty sure you haven't had it easy growing up. We're just...I dunno...doing our best to help make your stay the best it can be. That is, if you let us."

Great. Just great. The sincerity coming from the large man was just he needed to be the cherry on top for the end of the day. As much and Ambrose wanted to appreciate it, as much as he wanted to show how grateful he truly was, he simply couldn't allow himself to be reminded of this wholesome and familiar feeling he once had as a child.

"G-Gladio, j-just stop, please..." Ambrose quietly begged, looking in his lap. "I...I know y'mean well but, I don't belong."

For as thick of a skin the fireman had, the words stung terribly. _Maybe he needs more time._  

"M'sorry you feel that way," Gladio replied, his voice deep in baritone. "But...you're wrong. You fit right in."

Ambrose looked away, facing the window instead. His teeth hurt from clenching his jaw so tightly to keep his emotions at bay.

 

Upon their return, Ambrose went straight to his room. He undressed, tossing his uniform in the closet to be forgotten for the two weeks he wouldn't need to wear it. He moves Ireeni over, reclaiming his spot on his bed. Slipping the headphones on, he stays up listening and downloading music-- plugging in sounds and hears to experiment with; all while texting Gauge.

<< so, when's that party you mentioned?

>> you wanna go? what made you change your mind?

<< i need to get away from here

<< even if it's at that pricks house for a few hours

>> alright. it's tomorrow night.

>> think that'll be okay?

<< with?

>> um, your dads?

<< i don't see why not

>> okay. I'll pick you up around 11?

Only...the foster parents wouldn't know anything about a party until the morning after the event...

 

Ambrose maintained his usual low profile all of Saturday. Watched Justice Monsters with Hy and Lux all morning, helped out with a few chores around the house, finished his childsplay assignments-- emailing them to his teachers. A very boring, simple, normal day.

The worry of getting caught sneaking out didn't faze Ambrose. He's runaway from homes, broken in, snuck out and gotten back in with ease. This was nothing.

It was a little past 11. Ambrose had told Gauge he'd meet him the community park a few streets down from where he lived. He needed to ensure he wouldn't get caught slipping out. 

The kids slept like the dead. And since Bruno snored louder than anyone in the house, he was a pretty useless guard dog. 

Ambrose held onto his shoes in order to tip toe quietly down the stairs. He knew which steps creaked, which was the easy part. What he hadn't figured out was how exactly he was going to leave. Probably the back door was best. He had hopped plenty of fences before; no matter the height or style. Not to mention the key he had to cover his tracks to lock it again. 

Excitement thrumming through his veins, Ambrose set out for yet another long over due adventure. Phone on silent, dimmed low, and shoes in hand, he carefully left his room-- gently closing the door tightly.

Walking slowly and methodically, Ambrose could see from across the hall the kids were passed out-- Bruno's head hanging over the edge of Hy's bed and drool pooling to the floor. Gross.

Before the teen began to descend, he heard something. Freezing, he focused on the noises he was hearing.

Voices. _What the fuck-- they're normally asleep by now._ But creeping down the stairs he could make out a dim light coming from the floor below. Getting a better listen to the voices, it was evident they weren't sleeping, or simply talking. Ambrose recognized those sounds. They were _fucking_.

Ambrose scrunched his face, throwing his head back in frustration. Fuck! This was the last thing he needed right now. Them being awake, and them having sex. Gross. 

Muscling up, Ambrose chose to use this to his advantage. They'll be so preoccupied, they probably won't even know he left. Hopefully.

Watching his step, the light becomes a helpful guide. But the mistake of looking in its direction was a mistake. Ambrose internally cringes getting the slight glimpse of the pale blonde ramming into his behemoth husband through the crack of their bedroom door. Now piecing the noises from before, and now, involuntarily paints a vivid picture in his mind. 

And because of his lack of focus, Ambrose triggers a creak from the floor beneath him.

"Wait-- what was that?" Prom asks breathlessly, pausing to try to look through the door gap from his stance. 

"I didn't hear anything. Keep going," Gladio blows off, tapping his husbands thigh to regain his attention.

"No I heard something. What if it's one of the kids?"

"All three of em are passed out. It's probably Ireeni walking around . Now c'mon, I'm really close."

Much to his dislike, noises come flowing from the bedroom and into the teen's ears-- signalling him that now a good time to leave.

Ambrose does his best to move quickly with no error. Getting to the back door, he can hear Gladio grunting. _Ugh_. But without hesitation, he opens the door and closes it (as the sounds were muffled over by the man's climax). Slowly re-locking the door with his spare key, Ambrose slips on his shoes before walking to the side of the house and hopping the fence.

He jogs to the park, seeing as he made Gauge wait 10 minutes past their agreed time. The tan boys finds his friend sitting on the swing set, fiddling on his phone, texting him where he was no doubt.

"Sorry," he calls out, stopping short in front of him.

"What took so long?" Gauge asks, putting his phone away.

Ambrose puts up a hand waving it, "Y'dunn wanna know. Just know I'm scarred for life."

Despite the lacknof context, Gauge laughs, shrugging as he gets up to make way to his bike. "Here, take this."

Ambrose didn't know Gauge had a motorcycle. Wasn't he pretty young to have one? Whatever. He advised they push the bike to the community exit to turn it over.

 

Arriving to the party, hundreds of students walked and hung around the luxurious mansion decorated beautifully in Christmas decor. Of course it was a fucking mansion. It had to be. It explained everything that was wrong with Taron and his shitty personality.

Flicking the kick stand, Gauge rests his bike inside the garage where everyone is playing beer pong. "We can leave these here. Taron said it'd be cool." Gauge places the helmets on the bike, one on the handle and the other in his seat.

It seemed as if all eyes were on them as they walked through the garage and past the drinking game. The horrible music playing only proved right when they walked inside, personally insulting Ambrose. Who the fuck was the DJ? They should be shot. 

"Euriel! Hey!" An all to familiar voice called out. Looking over, the pair saw Taron coming towards them. Ambrose noticed the taken back look on the boys face when realizing he was there too. "Ah, I uh, see you brought a guest," he comments.

"Hope that's alright. You said I could bring whoever," Gauge reminded him.

Looking at him, Taron smiled tightly. "Of course. I just hope uh, you're okay with being friends with someone such as.. _him_."

"Annnnd that would be?" Gauge prompts.

Taron blinked as if it were obvious. "That he's gay?"

Gauge's face contorts into confusion, taking some offense. "Is that a problem?"

Ambrose taps the back of his hand on Gauge's chest, "It's cool man. As I'm sure you know, it takes one to know one, right Taron?" Ambrose smiles almost flirtatious, mocking the boy. 

Taron looks ready to fight again, but Gauge intervenes. "Look, if this gonna be a problem, we can leave."

"No, no please-- stay. We're good, right?" Taron interrupts, looking at Ambrose dead in the eye. 

"Yea whatever." Ambrose bites, refusing to back down.

Taron works his jaw, glaring at him before turning over to Gauge. "Well, try to enjoy yourself. Beer's in the back." With a clap to the shoulder, Taron stalks off, knocking his drink back.

The pair raise their brows in unison, amazed at what just happened. "Wow. That's his problem with you? Fuck. I had no idea-- we can leave if you want."

"Nah, s'fine. Well-- not _fine_ , but whatever. 'M used to it. And besides, free beer."

From the way Gauge groaned as he was being dragged through the house, he anticipated for an interesting night. Which mostly ended up being them talking the entire time with Ambrose drinking for the both of them as Gauge had to be sober to drive back.

Just a few beers in, Ambrose was starting to loosen up. He accidently spoke in Llumna to Gauge when yet another shitty song came over the speakers. But this seemed to capture Gauge's attention. "Holy shit man, I haven't heard Llumna since...I dunno, forever? Are you fluent?"

Ambrose learned Gauge could only understand Llumna, for the most part. It was Lestallum's own unique dying language not many people learned unless you were from there. Not many people could speak or understand it-- let alone read or write. Hence, a dying language.

 _"Ugh, this shit is boring,"_ Ambrose groaned in Llumna. Gauge laughs, looking around them.

"Yea it's uh...a white Christmas, if you know what I'm sayin'," he replies.

Ambrose suddenly stand up, polishing off his beer, placing it on the seats edge. _"M'bout t'fix that."_

Gauge calls out to his friend, trying to find out what he had in mind. Without luck in simply callig him back, he swears, getting up too and chasing after him-- hoping not to lose him in the crowd.

Ambrose shoves his way past everyone, looking for the source of shitty music playing. He couldn't even tell what the fuck it was, but it needed to be less...well, shitty. 

"You!" He shouts, pointing to some scrawny kid with a computer and poorly put together playlist. "Move! Show you how its done!"

Now-- normally, Ambrose uses his pad to mix music on the spot. But since he didn't have his, or even a basic soundboard, playing tasteful songs was what he was left with.

"This shit is like, 20 years old! Classic pop? Who are these people? Don't answer that."

Logging into his music sites, Ambrose cuts off the current song, cause a slight uproar.

After skimming through songs with hard beats, he selects a song to run. 

People in the crowd seem to take a new attitude to the music, nodding their heads to the beat, dancing next to the person nearest them.

Ambrose is scrolling through songs to add to the playlist, wanting to increase its tempo and hard bass. As he's doing so, Gauge catches up to him. "Ambrose, dude, what the fuck?"

"I refuse to fall victim of shit music as a bystander. Hope you understand."

"Uh. No. I don't. C'mon, before Taron gets pissed."

"Man, fuck Taron!" Ambrose shouts. "Fuck I wish I had a circuit. Or my fucking launchpad! Ugghhhh."

"You're such a light weight. Never letting you drink again." Gauge says with grief. Which only worsens when he seeing the host storming up to the platform.

"Uh, excuse me! The fuck are you doin'?" The boy demands.

Before Gauge could defuse the situation, Ambrose tells Taron how he'll burn in Hell with Ifrit and Hades, or who the fuck ever for allowing disgraceful tracks to be played during the joyous holidays. Sighing, Gauge roughly drags his hand over his face. So much for defusing-- this hammered fuck just worsened their tension.

"Are you trying to get the cops called? Play anymore of this shit and we'll be shut down."

Ambrose cackles, "Oh please. M'sure mommy and daddy can buy them out with shut the fuck up money." Ignoring Taron, Ambrose sets the next song to play through.

"Look around fuck boy! No one's panties are in a twist. They're having _fun_. Now fuck off and lemme enjoy my set."

Taron is pissed, but gets dragged on the floor, earning praise for letting Ambrose take over. Seeing as he won, Ambrose basks in glory, moving a bit with the bass.

"You're fucking insane," Gauge laughs. "I thought he was going to climb over and beat the shit out of you."

"Wouldn't be the first time!" Ambrose yells. " 'Sides, you wouldn't let 'im."

The dark boy shakes his head, not being able to help but smile. "No, no I wouldn't."

Ambrose gives a knowing grin, returning back to the playlist, excited that one of his favorite discovered song is about the play.

 

_Put your hands in the air, let me know you're out there_

_P-p-put your hands in the air, let me know you're out there_

_Put your hands in the air, let me know you're out there_

_Put your hands in the air, air, air, air, air_

_Hungover and I'm back out_

_White party and I'm blacked out_

_Black car that's maxed out_

_I'm about to just black out_

_I'm about to just black out_

_I'm about to just black out_

_Hungover and I'm back out_

_White party and I'm blacked out_

_Black car that's maxed out_

_I'm about to just black out_

_I'm about to just black out_

_I'm about to just black out_

 

As soon as the bass drops, everyone loses their shit-- cheering and yelling for the up tempo and perfect flow. Looking over, Gauge looks impressed to his track selction, moving alongside him with the beat.

There are a select few teens who look lost in what to do with they're hearing over the speakers-- clearly uncomfortable with the 'type' of music being played. In that case, Ambrose had no problem turning up the (un)comfort zone.

And it seemed from playing the first song, someone had filed a noise complaint.

Two cops stood over the crowded dance floor-- scanning it to take in what they were dealing with.

So much for the assholes in the front for letting them know they were here.

"Alright, alright, that's enough. Everyone clear out of here before we start making arrests." One of the officer's announce. With a shout of boo, red solo cups are dropped, left to be taken care of by someone else.

Since they were all getting a free ride, Ambrose leans on Gauge to guide him. Only-- the pair don't make it too far.

The other officer stops them, flashing his light on their faces. "Where you two goin'?" He asks.

As if now he had learned the ways to keep him from saying something stupid, Gauge covers Ambrose's mouth. "We were just leaving sir. I'm his ride."

"You been drinking tonight?"

"Er, no sir."

"Would you give a breathalyzer to prove otherwise? Seeing as there's been obvious underage drinking, you might have fallen victim to temptation."

That's it.

Ripping his friends hand away Ambrose speaks up. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Ambrose!" Gauge hisses.

"No fuck that. This guys is being an asshole. And for what?!" Ambrose yells, waving his other hand at the leaving herd of teens. "They've been drinking just as much as I have! Speaking of! _I'm_ the one whose been drinking. Not gonna test me? Or them? Why? 'Cause I look like some white boy? Fuck you. You profiling racist fucking pig. I hate cops like you the most." He hiccups at the end.

" 'Cause this beautiful boy here is black, you gotta 'ssume he's trouble? Dishonor. Dishonor on you! Dishonor on your pig!--"

Gauge slaps his hand over his mouth again and forces him to look in his eyes, "Ambrose, I know you're drunk and you're trying to stick up for me-- which I appreciate very much--but please, for the love of Christ, shut up."

Ambrose's outbursts attracted the first officers attention, who made his way over to the small group. "Drautos, what seems to be the problem here? Lets get these kids out and home." 

Straightening up and away from his ~~crush~~ good friend, Ambrose rests on hand on his hip, and the other pointed and waving about. "I'll tell you what's going on here Sergeant Nnn...hold on, hold on...Ul...Ulllri-fuck...Ulric? Ulric! Okay, anyway, you're partner here or whatever pathetic excuse for a 'cop', is profiling this gentleman here," Ambrose blindly reaches for Gauge, finding his shoulder and hanging onto it to steady himself.

"While all these other people are leaving, he's being interrogated about his integrity n' shit because he's black. It's dis-- it's disgusting."

"I see. I'm very sorry to hear that. He will assist with everyone else leaving this premises. Now-- are you sure you can take your friend home like this? Need any help?"

After some discussion, Officer Ulric thought it would be wise for him to take Ambrose home. "Y'know, I swear I've heard your name before," he comments, scratching the back of his head with his own, waiting for Gauge to find his address. "Who are your folks again?"

"I live with my foster dads. Gladio and Prompto...ugh, they're gonna be so mad."

Nyx snaps his notepad shut. "I don't need the address, I know exactly where you live. Prom's dad is my Captain. Makes me patrol the neighborhood from time to time. Thanks kid, but I got it from here. You just drive home safely, ya hear?"

Gauge scout salutes the officer, and tells Ambrose he'll call him later-- that is if he wasn't in deep shit.

 

Luckily, Ambrose was only given a warning by the officer after taking him home. Which thank fuck because he couldn't afford a report being sent to Izunia. But unfortunately as they pull up to the house, Ambrose sees Gladio exiting the front door, standing on the front steps in his running gear-- staring directly at Ambrose in the back seat of the patrol car at nearly three a.m.

Slinking deeper into his seat, Ambrose whispers with a lot of feeling, "Fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the extra long chapter! I know I enjoyed writing it. In case you were, uh-- _wondering_ \-- I wrote a component chapter for Prom and Gladdy's [sexy time](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10947576/chapters/26564961) while Ambrose snuck out.
> 
> Also, if you haven't gotten a chance to check out my Promptio Week work, chapter [six](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11164374/chapters/24918735) in particular relates directly to this series in how the little family came to be. So, I hope you enjoy that as well. 
> 
> Be sure to leave some love down in the comments below. Or hate. Whatever. Some sort of compliment or critique letting me know how much you're enjoying this story (or not). 
> 
> Until next time! :)


	4. Chapter 4

"Thanks Nyx." Gladio said into the window of the patrol car. He and the officer had spoken in great length discussing exactly what happened tonight. The more Gladio learned about the details, the angrier he was becoming. Not wanting to lash out irrationally, he told the teen to go inside and wait for him. To which, Ambrose retreated to his bedroom, face washed and clothes changed, wrapped up in the comfort of his bed. He wasn't sure what to expect from the foster parent, but quite frankly, he didn't care. Whatever Gladio had for him, Ambrose was prepared for the absolute worst case scenario.

Hearing the front door slam, and heavy footfall up the stairs, Ambrose was able to time the firefighter perfectly up him entering his room without knocking. "Get up." Gladio ordered, flicking on the lights. He dives into the teen's dresser, rummaging for some sweatpants and socks, then the closet for a lightweight jacket. "Put these on." He further instructs, tossing the two articles of clothing at the teen. Sighing in annoyance, the teen concentrates, taking his time in putting everything on. "Alright let's go, hurry up-- get your shoes on." Gladio says, guiding him back downstairs.

Laced up and outside in the chilly morning, Ambrose looks to Gladio, wondering what fresh Hell he was about to go through. "Keep up." Is all Gladio says before yanking on Ambrose to trail beside him as he takes of in a run. _Fuck,_ Ambrose thinks to himself. He knew he wasn't in any condition to run. Even more so running with Gladio -- who would normally run anywhere from four to six miles on any given day as part of his work out routine. Despite being a large man, Gladio was fast for his size. Ambrose struggled to keep up-- he could run. But his approach to warming up and gradually speed up was entirely different from how Gladio went about it. With the low temperatures and the hard pavement, the teen's legs felt heavy, his lungs burned, and the task felt fucking _impossible_. Ambrose fought for control over his mind and body. It didn't take long for him to fall behind, only to get barked at to catch up. Normally, Ambrose wouldn't give a shit and resort to ignoring his guardian as he usually resorted to in the past. But he knew he was in no position to rebel and fuck up his last chance. He would just do his best. He's gone through worse-- which he was keeping an eye out for. It took well into the third mile for Ambrose to feel his legs and arms adequately warmed up, feeling the blood flowing in a pleasant tingle like sensation. Focusing on his breathing technique, he's able to run alongside Gladio-- swallowing the breach of vomit shooting up inside his chest. His eyes stung as bullets of sweat dripped down his face from pushing his body to cooperate with him in this morning's run.

Gladio discovering Ambrose had not only snuck out but was brought home by a police officer, _drunk_ , truly tested the man's patience. He had been so focused on channeling his anger and disappointment into the run, making sure the teen was within arms reach at all times. With this, he had lost a sense of time and distance until he saw the break of dawn bleeding into the night sky. It was about time to wrap things up and head back home in time to head to work for his shift. They had about four city blocks to loop around before heading back into the rolly hills of the suburban area.

Ambrose began huffing, losing control over his breathing. He was exhausted. He wasn't sure just how many miles they had just trekked, but it was enough to make him have a forward bend in his posture, leaning in forward into the uphill pathway towards home. He was right. there. Just a bit further...Rounding the corner of the neighborhood, Ambrose took off in a dead sprint. His heart pounded in his ears, inhaling and exhaling sharply in his nose, out his mouth. He pumped his arms as best he could to push himself, the side of the house growing larger and larger. The teen heard Gladio right behind, catching up to him. Ambrose's competitive nature was triggered, yelling at him to go faster. They were neck and neck, racing down to the last home on the right. Exhausted muscles screamed as the pain of use reached maximum capacity.

Ambrose barely brings himself to a halt as he runs into the garage, holding onto it as he catches his breath with gasps of air flooding his lungs. He uses his body weight to slide down as his legs give out, no longer able to support his weight, propping himself against the garage in his new sitting position. Gladio takes this time to stretch out his legs, bending this way and that as he feels his muscles tug in a comfortable stretch. He waits on Ambrose, who...doesn't look too well. He watches the teen turn his head to get on all fours as he vomits into the dead grass. "There it is..." Gladio comments, walking over to him to pat him roughly on the back. He remembers being in his foster son's shoes. Whenever he got caught sneaking in by his father, reeking of booze, his old man would toss him outside and run his ass off for miles; projectile vomit ridding the alcohol in his system. "C'mon. Let's get inside." Gladio says, picking up the teen by his arm and holding him by his waist.

They get inside and head straight to the half bath to wash up. Gladio propped Ambrose on the toilet lid so he could wipe the small chunks of puke off his face with a warm rag, to which the teen let him; seeing as he was too exhausted to say otherwise. The guardian looks over the boy's face and chuckles, "You look like shit." Gladio comments. Ambrose manages to groan and flip him the bird, which Gladio knocks away playfully. "Gotta hand it t'ya though," he adds, rinsing the rag in the sink, "you can run. Should definitely try out for baseball in the spring." They move into the kitchen where Gladio fixes some breakfast for the both of them. The bright kitchen lights hurt Ambrose's eyes, not helping at all with the headache he currently has. He looks up when he hears the sound of a ceramic coffee cup placed in front of him. Gladio hands him two white pills to take, "For the headache."

"Thanks..." he mumbles, taking the pain relievers. The strong taste of warm black coffee soothes his throat as he gulps down the medicine. As he did, Gladio slid over a plate of buttered toast for him to nibble on. The fireman pulls out a chair for himself to take a seat across from the other, sipping his own cup of coffee, carefully mulling over what and how he wanted to speak with Ambrose.

"So...let's talk." _Oh here we go,_ thought the teen. "I know you may not feel like talking but, this is serious. I hope you know that." Ambrose doesn't meet the man's eyes, opting to look at his hands playing with the handle of his cup. "Look," Gladio gently slides his mug to the side to make room for his arms to rest on the table. "I'm not mad that you went out last night, okay? I'm not. Neither is Prom. But what I _am_ mad about though, is the fact that you not only snuck out of the house, you also got _drunk_ ,  _and_ were brought home by the cops. The hell were you thinking?" Ambrose doesn't answer. "What, you thought we'd say no? Interrogate you? What is it?" Ambrose offers a shrug, taking some toast to munch on. Gladio sighs, "Ambrose will you please look at me?" Keeping his chin tucked into his chest, Ambrose flicks his eyes up upon Gladio's request. "Why did you sneak out kid?"

Ambrose takes a deep breath, sighing as he finishes chewing his food. "I dunno man. Whatever you think why I did is fine with me, I don't give a shit."

"That's not what I wanna hear." Gladio stated. "Don't settle for other people's thoughts and opinions because you think you don't have valid reasons and a voice. You're not a child." Ambrose offers no valid reason to give Gladio. He wouldn't buy the fact that he just wanted to leave; to get away from the kindness he didn't deserve. Hell, even the way Gladio was reasoning with him versus punishment was surprising, and a bit infuriating. Infuriating because how can someone be so lenient to someone like himself? A part of Ambrose felt like he could take advantage of his position here in the family's home if this was how he was going to be treated. "Listen Rose, if you don't wanna talk, fine. But you should know that you're not a prisoner here. We'd like to think we're not treating you like one either. But if you're unhappy or want to do something or need anything, don't hesitate to speak up." Gladio stands, taking his coffee with him. "But in the meantime, you're grounded."

"Fine." Ambrose says into his coffee, polishing the last remnants of it, getting out of his seat as well to dispose his mug into the sink.

"Alright well, thanks for sticking through that run." Gladio mentions, his gaze following the teen out of the kitchen.

"Like I had a choice? If 'm bein' real here, figured you were takin' me somewhere to beat my ass." Gladio freezes in place, jaw dropped slightly from what he had just heard.

"Eh-- excuse me?" Gladio manages to say. Ambrose stops to turn around and face the man. "You th-- you thought I was gonna _beat_ you?" He asks.

"Yeeah?" Ambrose confirms, shrugging and making a face as if it weren't a big deal. At this point, the foster parent has no idea what to say. He honestly wasn't sure how to even feel. Did he give off the impression that he would do something like that? "I mean, no offense but you're a big dude, 'nd looked real pissed so I just...I dunno..." the teen explains.

"Was that a common thing to happen to you in your previous homes?" Ambrose nods, making Gladio wide eyed and looking up towards the ceiling to not display his anger. Things were slowly starting to come together and beginning to make sense. His behavior, his training.

"Alright," he sighs, rubbing his eyes harshly. "Let's-- Goddamn, I can't belie-- wow. Okay, come're." He says, gesturing to the living room to his left. Gladio plops down on the sofa, patting the cushion next to him for Ambrose to join him. Hands in his pockets, Ambrose joins Gladio, not sitting too closely, but giving his undivided attention. "Look bud, I know fuck all about your past, but lemme tell you something. No one, and I mean _no one_ should be putting their Goddamn hands on you. Period. I don't care how mad anyone gets, no one should be physically abusive. Spanking a kid versus whooping on one are two different scenarios. Some people may argue with me that they're two in the same but-- I may get mad or frustrated with you, but it won't ever be to the point where I take you into the back alley of the city and _hit_ you. Do you understand? And if you didn't want to follow me, I can't force you. Kinda did but I assumed you were just going with it. Consent works in all forms. If you don't want to do something, no one can force you just because they're your guardian or whatever. Okay? Do we have an understanding?"

Ambrose nods, feeling a more at ease of living in the house and walking on eggshells. He knew deep down that the couple didn't demonstrate anything to make him feel otherwise. It was just...routine to be on guard to figure some people out, only to get side swiped with some unexpected shit.

"Alright. Go up stairs and get cleaned up. I gotta head to work soon."

 

Prompto got the cliff notes of everything that happened when Gladio got up for his morning run. He was just as shocked to learn a bit more about their foster son as his husband was. He nagged Gladio about being harsh with the running, "You didn't need to take him on a freaking half marathon, Gladio!"

"Look, babe, I didn't _mean_ to run that far," he insisted, shaving the last remaining strip of white cream on hi face. "Was honestly waiting him to throw up before we hit the six mile marker--" he flinches when Prom lightly smacks his arm. "What!"

" _Six_ _miles_? Are you _insane?_ " Prom rhetorically asks his husband. He tsks and shakes his head. "I can't believe you."

"What did you want me to do then, huh?"

"Literally anything _but_ that."

"Pfft." Gladio runs his razor blade under the water before dropping it in the cup which held his toothbrush. "Yeah, 'cause doing nothing will teach him anything." he comments before running his hands under the water to splash his face.

"I didn't say you should have done nothing. Quit twisting my words." Prom mutters, carelessly tossing the toothpaste back on the counter, a bit annoyed with the other man.

"Whaddya want from me then?" Gladio asks, growing irritated as he snatches the nearest hand towel to dry his face.

Prom's brows furrow, catching to attitude in his husband's voice. He plucks out his toothbrush, mindful of the foamy paste around his lips, "I dunno, maybe we could have _both_ discussed a suitable punishment? Instead of forcing him to run in this awful weather?"

Gladio sighs, shoving the small towel through the wall ring to hang. "Then how 'bout you deal with him? Since I'm incapable."

"I never said you were! Jesus Chri-- I swear to God Gladio. Why do you get so frustrated with me just because I don't agree with how you discipline our children? Or how I take a different approach for that matter."

The couple playfully bickered all the time. But they never had arguments over their disagreements. If one would call it an argument, that is. Traditionally one would envision an argument involving all person yelling at one another and saying hurtful things. But this was quite the opposite. Yes, the discussion was heated, but they were not children; having a yelling contest of who could out scream the other. Especially with the kids upstairs. Only that didn't prevent Ambrose from overhearing when herding the young two downstairs. He hung around at the top of the stairs on the second floor, straining his ears to catch what his guardians had to say about him.

"Why do you have to blow what I did out of proportion?" Gladio countered, re-entering their bedroom so he could dress into his blue fatigues. "Don't I get credit for getting through to him in the slightest?"

"First of all--" Prom says loudly in the bathroom for Gladio to hear over the sound of him brushing his teeth.

"Oh here we go.." Gladio mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not blowing a fucking thing out of proportion. Don't try to make me out to be the bad guy and turn the table on me because you can't keep a cool head when I disagree on something with you. All I was trying to say was I don't like how you made him run for _that. long_. Secondly," he takes a moment to spit into the sink and rinse out his mouth. "who said I'm not acknowledging you for sitting him down and discussing his actions, _annnnnnnd_ his past experiences? If I could get more than two seconds to speak my damn mind, maybe you would have heard me express my concerns about our foster son, as well as compliment how nicely you handled the overall situation." Ambrose snickered a bit hearing the blond cough an attitude right back at the bigger man. He could hear Gladio sigh in defeat. He keeps quiet as he dresses, tossing away any word of retort. Footsteps could be heard trailing from the master bath to the suite, "Look," Prom starts again, much more softly this time, "I'm not trying to bad mouth you or talk down to you but you can be so stubborn sometimes and refuse to listen to anything I have to say."

Prom approaches Gladio, who still has his back turned to him, fixated on looping and buckling his belt. He rests his hands on the bigger man's sides, testing to see if he was too upset to be touched; which he didn't reject. Prom wraps his arms around Gladio's trim waist, resting his cheek against a his strong back, squeezing tightly. "Hey..."

Gladio pauses, taking a deep breath, "He's a teen babe...we can't... _coddle_ him like we do with Lux and Hy."  
  
"I know." They remain quiet; Gladio resting his hand on Prom's hold around his stomach, brushing his thumb back and forth over the blond's soft pale freckled skin.

Gladio looks over his right shoulder, seeing a tuft of blond hair, "Are we good?" he asks. He sees the hair move, feeling the other nod against his back. It's quiet again before Ambrose hears the familiar sound of kissing coming from the room. _Ugh,_ seeing as all things were great in paradise again, Ambrose regrouped with his foster siblings and helped them get situated at the table for their early breakfast.

After Gladio left for work, Prompto sent the younger children to brush their teeth and come down with one of many homework assignments they were given for their break. In that short time, Prompto expressed how worried he was last night to Ambrose, asking him to not do anything of the sort again. In short he gave the same lip Gladio had given the teen earlier, but Ambrose was a lot more receptive. Especially when Prom only gave him one week of restriction; to include his phone taken away when sent to bed. And in no way was this lenient punishment out of spite from the argument Prom had with his spouse...at all. Prom looks at the giant Rottweiler eating his morning meal, "And you. What kind of dog sleeps through an escape?" Prom scolds playfully. Bruno ignores his owner, burping into his food bowl and licking up dust particles of dry food, causing his ceramic bowl to scrape across the tile floor.

 

The following morning while Ambrose was helping Prompto load the kids into the car, the parent receives a call on his cell phone from his Father-in-law. Answering the call, Prompto spends the next few minutes talking on the phone, eyes worried and appeared to be asking questions after long silences on his end. Finally the call ends and he gets into the driver's seat and turns to face the children. "Hey you guys? Listen, uh, don't freak out because everything is okay but-- Papa is at the hospital right now."

Hy gasps, covering his mouth. "What happened?" Lux asks, leaning in close.

"Well, he had a very eventful shift. And on one of his calls, there was a fire, and after putting it out, Papa had to do his routine checks. Apparently the second floor wasn't as intact as he thought it would be, and his leg went through the floor board. When Uncle Iggy tried hauling him out, debris fell and--"  
  
"Does this mean dad has another cool scar?!" Hy exclaims.  
  
"Uh-- well, yeah? But he's fine. Uncle Iggy is fine. They're both getting stitches and should be home by the time we come back from the store."

As they ran the errands, Prom trusted Ambrose with the list of things they needed to get as he spoke on the phone with his spouse. Ambrose took his time pushing the cart, going up and down every aisle while Hy and Lux made a game out of finding things they needed (and wanted) and tossing it in the cart. Reminding them to _walk_ not run, Ambrose crossed off the items on the lined sheet of paper-- going back and forth to thinking of the foster parent and the task at hand. It was literally just yesterday when he and Gladio sat down and talked. And now he was in the hospital? Minor injury or not, something like that could have really turned for the worse. He couldn't imagine if, God forbid, something worse happened and the kiddos had to grow up with only one parent. He wasn't a bad guy. A bit abrasive but likeable. Ambrose grabbed the pendant of the necklace around his neck to comfort him from the thought. Even remembering how his mother had actually passed in a similar situation brought an ache to his chest. He wouldn't wish that sort of pain on anyone, friend or foe.

On the way home, Prompto reminded everyone to give Gladio space when they got back; not to ask too many questions and give him his rest period. Pulled into the garage, they unload the groceries in one go and walk to the door leading to the kitchen to find Gladio with a long horizontal scar across his forehead, and blue stitches sticking out from it. Gladio, with a large goofy smile, points to his head, "Look what I got!"  
  
"BATTLE SCAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!" Hy war cries, running towards the large man to hop into his lap to take a closer look. "Gnarly." he whispers in awe. The gash was angry and swollen from the tight stitching. Very small gaps revealed how deep the injury was. Lux scolded her younger brother, reminding him of everything their Daddy had just told them no more than three minutes ago. Ignoring her, Hy asked his father what happened.   
  
"I dunno bud. One moment I'm checking the floor, then I'm through it, and next thing I know I wake up in the hospital."  
  
"Wait what-- Clarus didn't mention _that_ part. Did you get a CAT scan? Do you have a concus--"

"I'm _fiiine_ , babe." Gladio assures, reaching for him to receive his welcome home kiss. Prom does, hugging him for a little bit to calm his nerves for his own sake. He asks his spouse about his leg, taking a look at it himself and hissing of how painful it looked. "It's not as bad as it looks, I promise."

"Hm...well, lets get you to bed, yeah? You must be really tired." Prom suggests, offering a hand to help his husband up. Gladio had a slight limp in his step from how sore his leg was. Again, Ambrose is left with the kids to put the groceries away. The teen wasn't sure if this was a way of being left to handle the kids because he was old enough to do so, or if because his foster parents trusted him enough to watch the kids without being asked to do so...Whatever it was, Ambrose didn't feel obligated or annoyed to supervise the other two.

 

The first week of restriction came and went. And now it was Christmas. Unlike Thanksgiving, when everyone was somehow still pulled to work on the holiday, the whole family gathered at the small town home. Ambrose hadn't been properly introduced to the family, only hearing about them from Gladio and Prom from time to time. But Hy was more than happy to help the teen meet everyone and learn their names with a proper handshake. Of course it was a bit strange to see his Headmaster in his own home. But seeing as he was Noct's father and Cor's best friend, he was basically family. He enjoyed listening to their stories about his foster parents. It was...nice... the whole idea of this situation felt unreal. No one was arguing. There was food in the home. The heat and electric wasn't shut up due to lack of payment. Christmas was actually being _celebrated_ with a mountain of presents surrounding the tree for everyone. No one treated Ambrose like a pariah-- everyone made some sort of conversation with him. Sure it may have been small talk but, they had to start from somewhere, right? He almost wished he was uncomfortable however a small part of him was too tired to guard the wall he had built up over the last few years. _Just fucking enjoy yourself dude_.

The doorbell rings unexpectedly. Everyone has a look on their face, wondering who the hell was at the door at this hour while everyone was enjoying their desserts before opening presents. Prompto rushes to the door to answer it, surprised to see who was on the other side. "Hey Gauge! Merry Christmas! Come in come in!" he greets the boy. As soon as he hears the name, Ambrose gets up with his little red solo cup of sparkling cider and walks to the front of the house. He smiles when he sees Gauge with a wrapped present under his arm.

"Hey," he calls out, smiling. He doesn't know it, but everyone sitting in the formal living room watches the way the teen interact. "I didn't think you were serious about coming over."

"Told you not to underestimate me." Gauge says. "I came by to give you this." He holds the gift out for Ambrose to grab, to which Ambrose smiles and blushes slightly.

"You did have t--"

"I wanted to." Guage interjects. _Oh my God how fucking sweet,_ Ambrose thinks.

Gladio comes trudging in, asking who was at the door. "Oh, hey Gauge."

"Hey Mr. A. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas. Ambrose didn't mention you'd be coming over, since he's _grounded_." he says, raising his brows at the teen.

"What?" Ambrose makes a face, "No I'm not."

"Says _who?_ " Gladio asks, earning a pointed finger at toward his husband, who then replies sheepishly that hey may have only grounded him for a week, making Gladio roll his eyes and shake his head.

Looking back at the dark boy, Ambrose thanks Gauge for the gift. "I feel bad now-- I didn't get you anything."

"Nah," Guage brushes off, "don't sweat it." he knew his friend had been grounded and felt horrible for getting him in trouble. He wasn't expecting to get a gift in return for social conveniences. "I saw this and it made me think of you sooo, yeah. Open it with your family-- don't wanna intrude or anything."

"No, no, no! It's fine." Ambrose insisted, tucking some hair behind his ear to avoid the other seeing him blush. At this point, they forgot they were in a room full of people. "Thank you Gauge." he says smiling.

"You're welcome." They look at each other for a moment before the moment is sabotaged by Lux who groans, 'oh my gawd just kiss already!', causing everyone in the room to chuckle. Ambrose sneers at his foster sibling, and Gauge coughs into his fist from her comment. "I uh-- heh, I should probably get going then." Ambrose jumps at the opportunity to walk Gauge out back to his bike-- which everyone, including Regis, shoots him a thumbs up for good luck, as he shuts the door behind him.

They walk side by side to the motorbike parked on the curb. Ambrose has his arms wrapped around his stomach to keep warm while Gauge takes out a pair of leather gloves to put on. "Aren't you freezing?" he asks the other as he mounts the bike.

"Nah. I run hot." Gauge explains. _Yeah you do,_ Ambrose thinks to himself.

"Hey listen," Ambrose says quickly, "um, thanks for coming over. The gift and everything."

"Oh no problem man."

"I just-- I _really_ wanna return the favor." he presses.

"Oh yeah?" Gauge says, "Well, uh, what'd you have in mind then?" he asks curiously.

Ambrose bites his lip in anticipation as he rocks on his heels, "Maybe go on a date?" This catches Gauge off guard. He asks if he's serious, and Ambrose is nothing but. He grows nervous the longer Gauge takes to answer, but is relieved when he sees the dark boy smile stupidly, he too biting his lip at the exciting thought of going on a date together.

"Yeah," Gauge replies, nodding. "Yeah, okay. A date. Sounds good."

"Cool." Ambrose thinks of what to do next to really convey his attraction and interest towards the other. "Ride safe, 'kay?" he leans in to kiss Gauge on the cheek. And in that moment, after his lips lift off the dark soft skin, Gauge turns his head just enough where both of their lips are _right there_. Ambrose freezes, waiting to see if he's reading the other correctly. He sees Gauge's mind working, his eyes flicking down to his lips, fixated on them. It's when Gauge leans in the rest of the way when Ambrose realizes they're now kissing. And it's fucking heavenly. Full, soft lips gently and warmly pressed against his own-- a leather gloved hand grabbing his chin confirming the _desire_ for one another fueled the intimate moment. After what felt like an eternity, the both pull away, feeling pleasantly high. "Text me when you get home?" Ambrose requests. With a nod and a lopsided grin, Gauge pulls his helmet over his face and slings a reflective belt over his thick jacket. Ambrose steps away as the bike roars to life, and Gauge waves as he peels away from the curb. Ambrose doesn't even care that everyone back inside the house was watching from the living room window as he heads back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heheheyyy y'alllll! soooo i'm not dead. here's a long over due update, and an apology: sorry for taking forever to get my life together and working on other projects and neglecting this one. i'm struggling to try my best tbh lol. i hope you enjoyed the update! there will be maybe like...three or four more chapters left of this? so yeah. oh! and! if y'all love this, a mutual of mine, inktail drew some fucking precious art for the little fam bam here *cries* http://inktail.tumblr.com/post/168878944375/please-take-my-tablet-pen-away-or-i-will-never

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to tell me about hoe this made you feel! Yes, the chapters will be about this long, if not longer. Thanks for reading! Until next time!:)
> 
> Edit: Hey Everyone! Check out my part two of my family au [Can You Keep It Down?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10947576/chapters/24362739) The first chapter includes how Prompto and Gladio met in much more detail and uh, other stuff *wink wink*


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